Fabienne and June Ch. 08

It felt so good to know that June wanted me, as I wanted her. This was a step, no, a leap really, into the unknown. I had not, unlike her, ever committed to a relationship; so, for me, this was new and unexplored territory.

The legal side of things sorted itself out with commendable speed. Elle was sad that there was no chance to say farewell at school, but accepted my view that even to hold a party at Wolfie's would be to invite unwelcome interest. It was, in my view best to let things calm down. And they did, with surprising speed.

The exit from school and the financial settlement meant that I had time to concentrate on June. I accepted her view that I could not carry on working every evening at the restaurant, not least because they had hired a new, full-time waitress; but I felt a little sad at the loss of routine. As June was discovering, for someone like myself, routine matters; it is a place of comfort. But with the prospect of teaching at St Bede's for half the week coming into view in the near future, it was best that I let her and Wolfie sort out the waitressing and cleaning staff; but standing back left me feeling a bit empty.

The first morning June went to work without me, I was up before her and had prepared her a coffee and some breakfast. She wandered in, sleepily and looked at me:

"Did you get up, love? No need."

Then she saw what I had done.

"For me? Aww darling! You shouldn't have!"

She kissed me.

"But I am glad you did,"

"Well, let me walk as far as Wolfie's with you and then you can get on with your day. Do you have any time off after Easter?"

"That would be nice," she smiled, sipping her coffee. "Yes, I have most of the week after, why?"

"Well, I need at some point to go back to Paris. I have arranged a chat today with my old Headmistress, and I want to clear things up at my apartment - and, well, you might want to meet my family, such as it is."

If I sounded hesitant, it was because I was. My family did not approve of my sexuality, and that, alone, was reason not to introduce June to them. Then there was Genvilliers itself. Across the years it had got worse, and now the police would not even go there for anything less than a full-scale riot. What on earth was I thinking?

June smiled.

"You'd want me to meet them?"

I sighed.

"I'm proud of being yours, but, well, my family are not exactly a model one."

"Whose is?" June asked.

"I know, but I ought to prepare you for them!"

As we walked to Wolfie's I explained something of my background.

My mother was from Paris and had fallen for my father, who, she said, was an Algerian, when she was young. She'd had Didier, my brother when she was 19, and me a year later. Soon after that, my father had taken up with another woman and left us. Mum had supported us by taking whatever "work" she could, but from childhood I had been bewildered by the number of "uncles" who visited us. It was only later I realised that mum had been selling her body to support us.

I told June what my mum had done, and something about Didier, my idiot older brother, who "worked" in a local garage, he said, but as far as I could see, he spent a lot of time around the estate where we lived dealing drugs.

"An exotic background my love. So how come you are different?"

I explained that was where my syndrome was a blessing.

I had spent a lot of time in hospitals, and at school I'd tended to keep myself to myself. I'd drifted through school and gone into a jobs requiring few qualifications, and it was only in my twenties that I'd realised I could do more.

She hugged me.

"Look, I am easy darling. Of course I'd like to meet your family, who can't, surely, be as awful as that, but don't worry."

But I did.

Walking back after leaving her at the restaurant, I wandered down by the river near the cathedral. I pondered my dilemma.

It was, a realised, one of my own making. June loved me for who I was, so what was the point of taking her with me to see who I had been? But it couldn't be that simple. You could take the girl from the banlieues, but could you take the banlieues from the girl? Did it even matter? I had not seen June's mum. Why was I complicating things? Because I did, I guessed, over-thinking as usual.

Feeling the need for some caffeine, I popped into the café at the Cathedral and ordered myself a cappuccino.

"Might I join you, Fabienne? Nice to see you here again!"

I looked up and it was Jen.

"Yes, of course, can I get you a coffee?"

"There's one on its way."

I told her how much June and I had enjoyed dinner with her and Ali, and we chatted for a while, then she looked at me.

"What's up, Fabienne?"

Somehow, she knew. So I let my thoughts flood out.

"Yes, you may be overthinking, darling, but I can see something more there."

I looked at her, wanting the benefit of her wisdom.

"You are changing your life, Fabienne, and I think for you that means some sort of catharsis." She looked at me, holding my eyes with hers. "You have unresolved issues, and you need to see if you can resolve them."

Tears came to my eyes. She was right.

Later that day I told June, who simply smiled and, in her sweet way said:

"That sounds perfectly sensible my love. So let's do it!"

I telephoned Mme Duclos to ask whether she would be in Paris, but she was away. She did, however, kindly offer me the use of the apartment for the week. As I had already given notice on my own, that was a big plus. I also sent my letter of resignation into school, and arranged to talk with my old Head when I was back. Finally, I phoned my mum and told her I was coming back."

"I heard you gave up your job. Why are you coming back?"

"I have a partner, Mum and I want you to meet her."

"Her? You are still doing that pervert stuff?"

"Mum, understand, please."

"Yeah, I do, you're not the sort men go for. Okay, come for a meal on Sunday, Didier will be here too."

And that was that.

As we sat at St Pancras awaiting the train to the Gare du Nord, I surveyed the travellers and wondered about their stories. June, seeing my nervousness, was wonderfully attentive.

Once we reached Paris, I went into automatic pilot. June thought we might take a taxi to the apartment, but I explained to her that the Metro would be quicker - as it was. She was duly impressed my Mme Duclos' apartment.

"I thought you came from a poor background?"

"I do, this is my former lover's!"

"Oh, I see, and are you still...?"

"No!" I said, firmly, "that stopped ages ago, but we stay in touch."

"And would you, if she wanted?"

June's neuroses were as obvious as mine. I kissed her.

"Which part of being yours alone was I unclear on?"

She hugged me and the topic passed - for the moment.

There was a joy in showing my darling the delights of Paris, but even as we walked along the banks of the Seine on our way back from a delicious meal, the shadow of what was to come was clouding my joy.

June, as ever, was both conscious of my processes, but also determined not to let them set my mood into stone.

"You know, don't you, that I love you?" She said, as we kicked off our shoes and settled down.

"I do."

"So, little one, what's wrong?"

She rarely called me "little one," and when she did it was usually a sign that she was being protective.

"Oh, it's just, well, tomorrow. I'm afraid it's all going to be horrible, and you'll go off me."

"Really?" June smiled. "Stand up."

I stood in front of her.

"Listen, you, because I am not going to repeat it. I love you. You are mine; you hear?"

I looked at her, our eyes not quite level, but without the usual crick in my neck, looking up at her.

"I do."

"Good, well," she said, sliding her hand up my skirt and pushing my legs apart, "and this is mine too," she said, patting my pussy, which made me whimper. "And tonight, I am going to take you good and hard, you hear that?"

As her hand patted my pussy, my thoughts whirled as my libido began to take over. She was doing this for me, and that thought alone, that evidence of her love, surged through me.

"I, I do, I do!"

"Good girl," she said, sliding her fingers under my wet knickers and pressing them against my swollen lips, making me gasp. "Take that dress off!"

As she fingered me, I could feel shivers to my core. Without hesitation, I pulled my little purple dress up and off, leaving me standing there in just my black knickers. Without any hesitation, June gripped the sides and pulled them up between my lips and my ass cheeks. I could feel the wetness pushing against my clit, making me whimper even louder.

"You do that for me now, love," she said, transferring her hands to my small breasts.

Her fingers and thumbs rolled my stiff, sensitive nipples, and made me moan out loud, which also made me pull my knickers up and rub, to grant my aching clit some measure of relief.

"Good girl, keep pulling."

I needed no encouragement, I was desperately wet, my whole vulva felt as though it was supercharged with sensitive nerve endings. The usual tingle became something closer to a flood. As it rubbed against my asshole, that, too, felt as though it needed filling. I groaned. Then she began to suck my nipples, pulling each one out, slowly but firmly, before sucking it.

"Knickers down to your knees darling!"

I wanted, I needed, to keep rubbing, but of course, did as she said.

I had to spread my legs to keep my knickers around my knees.

She pulled away.

"And what, young lady, is this?" She grinned, pushing a finger through the wet, creamy deposit where my knickers had been a moment ago.

"My pussy cream!"

"Whose pussy cream?"

Oh, I thought, no, but then a huge grin came over me.

"Yours, Miss!"

"For tonight, I am Miss June."

"Yes Miss," I gasped, having a minor orgasm, which did not pass unnoticed.

"Oh ho - you liked that, didn't you, you naughty girl?"

So saying, she scooped up more of my cream and fed me

"Suck it!"

Our eyes locked. I sucked. Then she patted my pussy, her fingers spanking my clit. I felt my knees go; my knickers dropped to my heels as I came hard. How I stayed upright I don't know, but within seconds I had dropped to my knees. She fed me he fingers. I sucked.

"Oh my! Well you are in the right position there, Fabienne!"

Saying that, she lifted herself up, pulling her skirt up to her waist and pulling her knickers down.

"Lick me!"

There was nothing in the world I wanted to do more at that moment.

Gripping her thighs, I applied my tongue to her slit, pushing the tip in, tasting her sharp, tangy nectar, which I applied to her clit, as I flicked it, first massaging it, then pushing it up as it unhooded, three of my small fingers finding her entrance and widening it. As I tented my fingers inside her, she gripped my head to steady herself.

I had her. My fingers swiftly darted in and out, making her squirm and squelch. As she moaned louder with every thrust, I knew I was getting her to where she needed to be. Burying my fingers deep in her, I pulled them apart and used my tongue on her exposed clit. That produced what I wanted - she squirted into my face. I felt her clench my fingers as her orgasmic spasms overcame her. I felt it myself, as so often with us.

For a few moments the world stopped. Lifting myself, I moved her hands from her breasts and kissed her nipples, licking them. My fingers stayed buried in her. She stroked my hair.

"Oh darling, just, wow, that was...!"

I looked up at her, well aware that my face was literally dripping with her squirt.

"The start..." I said, before gently pressing my fingers in so that my knuckles brushed against her clit.

"Not fair," she grinned, "I'm in charge!"

"Are you now?" I grinned back. "We shall see about that!"

I slipped my hand under her bum to touch her perineum, which was slippery with her juices, and my finger traced a path to her dark hole, which was also wet, so I teased her with rimming her there.

"Oh you naughty bitch!"

I giggled.

"Does my girlfriend want both her holes penetrated?"

"Don't be disgusting!" June giggled.

"In which case!" I said, easing my finger into her asshole and then touching it with the fingers embedded in her pussy through the narrow wall of flesh.

"Oh Geeze!" She screamed, as I massaged the narrow wall on both sides, leaning in to suck at her exposed breasts, her nipples hard and swollen for me.

Being able to access all her main erogenous zones was a delight, and I spent the next half an hour priming her, bringing her to the edge, and then stopping.

By the end she was lewdly pressing herself onto my fingers like the needy lover she was. As her passion rose, so did mine. I loved her. I loved making love to her. I loved pleasing her, as she did me, and we were both far gone into an erotic universe of sheer delight. She came again, and then again, before eventually whimpering:

"You're in charge, you are, I surrender!"

"Knickers at half-mast!" I giggled, noticing they were still on, though around her ankles now.

"I know why June wears knickers," I joked.

"Why?" She moaned.

"To keep her ankles warm!" I grinned.

"Monster!" She giggled and leaned forward to kiss me.

"Yum, I do taste good, don't I?"

I laughed and, taking the finger that I had sodomised her with, sucked it.

"You are SUCH a dirty little French tart!"

"Thass me," I grinned.

Eventually we got ourselves as far as the bedroom, where we just about had the energy to fall into each other's arms.

I woke early, conscious of not having washed, showered, or even having brushed my teeth. I could taste and smell my darling, which was rather fatal, as I felt a tell-tale tingle between my thighs; my nipples hardened. I snuggled into her and kissed her neck.

She smelt of sex. There was something about the smell of dried pussy which aroused a primal instinct in me.

Slowly, I kissed the back of her neck, my tongue taking little licks. She stirred, but did not appear to wake. I decided to push on.

Slipping down the bed, I kissed all the way down her spine until I reached that delicious indentation at its base, and I used my tongue to tease her there, sliding my finger between her ass cheeks.

"What? Geeze, you are insatiable! My girlfriend is a sex maniac!"

"With you, who wouldn't be?"

"I need to go pee," she said, romantically, before easing herself out of bed and padding to the bathroom.

I was hoping that, like most English people, she would not use the bidet.

She got back in.

"Did you?" I asked, enigmatically.

"What?" She asked.

Giggling, I turned her on to her back and got between her thighs.

"You, didn't!" I said, tasting the residue of pee on her lips.

There was just something about the strong taste of early morning pee which set my juices flowing. I just loved primal female scents and tastes, and I loathed the way deodorants masked or eliminated them. To have June like this, still smelly from last night's lovemaking, and now with the pungent scent of her first pee on my tongue, was too much - well for me it was.

I pressed my mouth in, sucking and licking her pussy, my tongue devouring her, swirling round her clit, before pressing, tube-like, into her gooey wetness.

June gripped her knees, giving me fuller access.

"You are such a dirty girl!"

I guess I was, but that was me, and the scent and taste drove me wild with passion for my darling's body. I wanted her to cum for me, to exorcise any demons and to confirm, maybe just for myself, that she was the one.

My face pressed in, coating myself with her cream. I could taste the salty pee mixed with her juices, and even as she pushed onto my face, orgasming sharply, I came too.

When we had both come down from our high, she dragged me up, our nipples rubbing against each other.

As we kissed, she said:

"You are insatiable, you dirty girl!"

"Well," I grinned, "you don't see to object to the mixture you just kissed, so looks like you're a dirty girl too!"

We giggled, cuddling up together.

When we woke, I could hear the bells of Notre Dame ringing. That meant it was just before ten - the Mass bell was tolling.

We managed to get ourselves in and out of the shower without molesting each other, though June warned me that she "had not finished with you!" One of the many wonderful things about her was reciprocity. If she came, she wanted me to, even though I had explained to her that with me, that was not always possible. I reminded her that, anyway, I had cum.

"Yes, but I want to do it to you, you little sex pot!"

"Oooh," I said, "I think I like the idea of being a sex pot!"

We giggled and got dressed.

I wore a mid-calf length light brown dress with long white socks with matching brown leather sandals.

"You look yummy." June said.

"So do you," I replied, loving the elegant, mid-thigh white dress with a collar, and the platform heel sandals she had decided to wear.

"Will I do?" She pirouetted.

"More than!" I grinned.

We took the RER from St Michel to Genvilliers, which took just over half an hour.

As we walked from the station to Mum's apartment, I was seeing it through June's fresh eyes. It was jaded, down-at-heel, even shabby, and the closer we got to the apartment the shabbier it got.

As we turned into the square, I was conscious we were attracting attention.

"Hé, sexy," was one of the few comments June could understand untranslated.

"Elle a un cul sexy," (she's got a sexy arse) and "le nain n'est pas sexy," (the midget isn't sexy" were par for the course), and "je la baiserais quand même" (I'd give her one all the same) were, fortunately, outside her range.

"We seem to be attracting a certain amount of attention my love?"

"Va te faire foutre les idiots, je suis la soeur de Didier"" (Fuck off idiots, I'm Didier's sister) seemed to be the correct respose.

"Oh la chatte lesbienne!" (The lesbian pussy).

But the mention of my brother's name seemed to do the trick.

"Sorry about that love," I said.

"No worries," she said.

We had to take the stairs as the lifts, as usual, were out of commission, but fortunately we were on the second floor.

I tried to ring the bell, but it did not work. So I knocked at the door.

Didier answered.

"Hi, sis, and WHO is this gorgeous chick?"

That, I thought, was a good start!