Finding Picasso Ch. 02

"Please," Sabine pleads. "Fuck me hard!"

Diando does just that. He stands at the end of the table and thrusts himself effortlessly into Sabine, who wraps her legs around him.

After Diando's skillful lip service, I'm not surprised at how gently their hips roll together while they gaze into each others eyes. Despite the pervyness of it all, or perhaps precisely because it is so pervy, my excitement level ratchets up another notch. I realize I'm witnessing something very special.

This is no random hookup, but accomplished lovemaking by a couple who seems to instinctively understand each other's desires. With agonizing slowness, they roll and grind together until, at last, I see a tiny separation between their hips and Diando begins pumping in and out. Almost as soon as it begins, they stop, and resume their sweet and gentle coupling.

On and on they go, eyes locked on each other, bodies undulating in perfect unison.

"You're not trying very hard," Zoe says, still holding the camera, but looking sideways at me, especially at where my right hand is wrapped around my cock.

She's right. My pace is languid. Even perfunctory.

"Maybe I'm waiting," I tell her. Watching how all this hot sex is getting to Zoe. Her face is flushed and sweaty and she's been biting her lower lip ever since they start fucking.

"For what?" she asks. "They're going to cum soon."

"For you," I say as softly as I can.

"That's sweet." She glances at me again, this time looking into my eyes. "My, God. You have that look!"

"What look?"

"I think the Spanish call it mirada fuerte. They say Picasso had it. Passion, desire, rage, impatience. Right now you're making me feel all sticky and sentimental."

"Is that bad?"

"If it means I blow the opportunity of a lifetime. Yeah! That's very bad. What I said about paying my rent? That was before they both got naked. This footage will probably buy the whole apartment."

I'm happy for Zoe, and realize that I really am distracting her. "I think Diando's about to step up the tempo."

Working with his cock, rather than his tongue and fingers, Diando duplicates the earlier Verse- Verse-Chorus-Verse pattern. Granted, it's a little formulaic. But Sabine doesn't care. Diando climbs the final mountain. Balls slapping. Pounding his cock into Sabine. His grunts grow louder and louder, only to be drowned out by Sabine's screams of joy.

Diando makes one final, furious thrust. Sabine arches her back and her body goes rigid. Sabine's final howl echoes along the canal. Still between her legs, Diando collapses into Sabine's arms.

They lie panting, curled up together in the afternoon sun.

Zoe reviews the footage on her camera LCD for a couple minutes. She goes from cute to beautiful when she concentrates. She brushes her bangs off her face, then turns and gazes at me deep in thought, as if some kind of internal debate is taking place. Finally, a smile spreads across her face. A very saucy smile.

"What else can you do with that thing?" she asks, nodding toward my cock, her voice a husky whisper. "You don't have a condom, do you?"

For an instant, my heart stops when I realize exactly what Zoe is asking. And, yes, I do have a whole pack of condoms. But the bummer is that I'll need to go to my bike and unpack one of panniers to find them.

Then I remember the little envelop from Cindy, my ex. Sex was a big reason for our breakup. I live for it. She didn't. About a week after our split, she mailed me a single lubricated, ultra-thin condom. It was her idea of a bon voyage gift.

"Keep this in your wallet, Horn Dog," she wrote on a yellow Post-It Note. "Someday you'll be glad I gave it to you." That's Cindy in a nutshell. A great big sister, probably a great mother someday. But a lover? Not so much.

"As a matter of fact," I tell Zoe, pulling the Ultra Thin from my wallet. "I do."

She snatches the foil package from my hand, tears it opens with her incisors, and kneels down to roll the condom over my cock. When Zoe touches me, her fingers feel electric. My body shudders and my cock quivers on the verge of orgasm. She looks up with alarm.

"You didn't?" she asks with a worried look.

"Almost. But, no. Not yet."

With a relieved smile, she finishes the job.

Some of the lube has come off on her fingers and she rubs them together. Then Zoe very carefully unzips her jeans, wiggles them off her hips and down her legs. She's wearing simple white bikini panties and reaches inside and slides her lubed fingers up and down.

Sometimes condoms have a deflating effect on me. Not today. Not as Zoe touches herself only inches away from my face. Even with the condom, a tingling sensation spreads across my groin and I almost lose it a second time.

Zoe's eyes close for a moment as she savors the sensation of her fingers. Then with a wide smile, she kicks her jeans off and pulls her panties down her legs and past her ankles in a single motion. For one unforgettable instant, I'm looking directly into her beautiful pussy. Trimmed. But not completely shaved. Drops of moisture glisten on pouting outer lips. Her inner lips, aroused and swollen, peek out at me.

"Stand up," she whispers. When I do, she steps onto the little bench and wraps her legs around my waist. Not that she's a big girl by any stretch of the imagination. But I'm amazed at how light and almost fragile she is in my arms.

She reaches between us and guides my cock to her entrance. I feel her hot juices leaking down my thigh. But Zoe's vagina is as tight as a vice. It takes a full minute of gentle thrusting to work my way I inside.

"You got it, Babe," she hisses as I feel my cock finally fill her. "Fuck, yes!"

Her vagina squeezes like a glove that's one size too small. But with each thrust, it becomes easier and easier to penetrate until she gasps in surprise. Instinctively, I pull back.

"Don't worry, Babe. You won't break me," she whispers.

I don't even try to emulate Diando's complex pattern of tempo changes, I just thrust slowly and gather pace when I feel Zoe matching me stroke for stroke.

"Oh, my God!" she whimpers, "Keep going, Babe."

I have no intention of stopping. For at least a hour, my body has been craving release. Now that Zoe's is in my arms and my cock is buried deep inside her, there is no stopping.

In my mind's eye, Zoe's face somehow merges with Violet, the beautiful girl who shared a mutual orgasm with me mere hours ago on the flight to Paris. She had covered our laps with a blanket and we brought each other off simultaneously, searching each other's eyes as we came.

We didn't fuck, although Violet as much as promised that we would as soon as I could get myself to Prague. But as my thrusts gain momentum, I imagine what it might be like with Violet.

I feel Violet's wet kisses on my cheeks and neck. Her breasts tremble under my fingertips and my lips devour her tight, pink nipples. She sighs contentedly as my cock pulses and pounds deeper and deeper. Her body builds toward orgasm, and somewhere at a great distance I hear Violet urging me on with soft moans and sighs.

Our mouths lock. Tongues swirl feverishly. Then it happens. Violet's tight, wet canal squeezes my cock in a series of violent contractions. Her moans echo in my ears. I erupt suddenly and savagely, moaning Violet's name and filling her with one powerful ejaculation after another until I am completely spent.

"Shhhhh," Zoe hisses, her hand covering my mouth. "Quiet big guy"

"I'm so sorry, Zoe," I whisper as I come back to my senses. Did I just cry out Violet's name? Did Zoe muffle my moan before Diando could hear it?

Zoe looks concerned, but not angry. We pull apart and peer through the ivy. Sabine is still wrapped in his arms, but Diando's head is raised and he looks around him, carefully scanning the wall alongside our little stone tower. I definitely got his attention.

"You have no idea how fucked I am if he reaches for his phone," Zoe whispers. "His chateau is 400 meters up that hill and it's filled with body guards. His and hers. They've got SUVs, cars, motorcycles. They'll be all over me minutes."

"Where are your SD cards?" I ask. Fortunately, Diando puts his head back next Sabine's and closes his eyes.

"In my cameras. You know that."

"Put them in your bra," I suggest. "Put some harmless photos in the camera. "

"I don't wear a bra," she tells me. "You know that too."

Still, she likes where I'm going. "I do have a panty liner," she she says, digging into her camera bag. She comes up with a liner and deftly peels the backing from the adhesive strip. "And I really do need it right now."

After placing the postage-stamp size SD cards in their protective cases, she presses each one firmly into the adhesive. "This is going be a new experience on my bike."

While she concentrates oh hiding her footage, I study Zoe's pussy, which is still red and puffy from our frantic fucking. "See something you like?" she asks, pulling her panties up her legs.

"My mouth is watering. I want a taste"

"Oh, God!" she whispers. "That would be so nice. But we have to get out of here." She rifles through an SD card case, selects two cards and inserts them in the cameras. "My niece's seventh-birthday party. Harmless enough for you?"

"And hopefully for Diando's security. If it comes to that." If we are intercepted by Diando's body guards, Zoe and I are just lovers out for a bike ride. I can see them checking out her suspiciously expensive cameras. Looking at the photos she's just taken. Maybe even confiscating her SD cards. But would they strip search us?

Zoe fires off a couple closeups of me, then packs her camera bag.

The bikes are where we left them and we ride side-by-side all the way to Paris without meeting any men in black SUVs.

Zoe stops where the bike path enters Parc de la Villette.

"I go this way," she says, pointing east toward St. Denis.

"I'll be in Paris at least a week. Can we get together soon?" I don't know why, but I desperately need to get to know Zoe better.

"Babe," she has a sad smile. A sad smile is never a good portent.

"You're cute as a puppy dog. A very strong puppy," she adds squeezing my biceps. "Do you lift weights or something?"

I nod.

"But you're how old? 20?"

"Twenty-two."

"I'm 32. I have a life, and a boyfriend. A real good guy. A fireman. And he's going to be upset as it is when I tell him what happened."

"You'll tell him?"

"Of course, we tell each other everything. That's what love's all about. Trust." She pauses, then adds with a little sigh of regret, "And forgiveness."

"But can't I have your phone number? E-mail address? Something to stay in touch?"

"Baby," she says, stepping onto her bike. "We've already touched too much. We've got some hot memories... And you have the look women cannot resist. Leave it at that."

"So, we'll never have Paris?"

"Never," she says with a laugh, "But we'll always have our afternoon with Diando and Sabine."

Zoe leans in and kisses me chastely on the cheek. Then pushes off and starts pedaling.

"I'd get some more condoms if I were you. You're going to need them," she shouts over her shoulder. Then almost as an afterthought, she adds, "And who the hell is Violet?"

Before I can say anything, she turns down a side street and vanishes. Sure I could find her. How many beautiful female paparazzi can there be in Paris?

But as my football coach used to say, "It is what it is." Our lives intersected for one amazing, sex-crazed afternoon. Let it be.

And, yeah, Zoe. That is a really good question. "Who the hell is Violet?"

I may just have to ride to Prague to find the answer to that one.

DISCLAIMER:

All characters except historical figures are purely fictional. All characters involved in sexual situations are at least 18 years of age. Copyright: jason_NYC