French Letters

As my penis slowly stiffened in her mouth, I set to work on her cunt - licking, sucking, nibbling and probing - focused like a laser on her reactions. Never before have I paid such minute attention to a partner's responses. As my tongue reached into her vagina, my mind reached into her head, yearning to feel what she was feeling so that I could make it all the more pleasurable for her.

"Oui! Yes! Eat me! Please! C'est ma première fois!"

Her first time? My intense (albeit posthumous) dislike of her abusive lover intensified into full-blown hatred. 'Selfish bastard!' I thought, as I gently sucked on her engorged clitoris. But there was nothing gentle about the way she ground her delicious pussy against my face, as she fucked herself on my outstretched tongue.

"Ahh... Oui! Plus, plus... Je t'en supplie! Je suis orgasmée! C'est incroyable... Ahhh!"

She slumped forward on my chest, my prick slipping from her lips as her pulsating cunt dripped its juices onto my chin.

"Ma première fois", she repeated quietly, as if talking to herself, our rules forgotten. "Mon premier orgasme".

The reality of what she had just said stunned me. All those times tied to this very bed, and not a single orgasm? Hell... Given the chance, I'd have stabbed him too!

"Ça s'améliore", I murmured. "It gets better."

"C'est vrai?" she asked, climbing off me and turning around.

"Oui." I smiled into her eyes. "Veux-tu me baiser maintenant?"

"Yes. I think I would like to fuck you now. I think I would like that very much."

"How do I tell you in French: 'My body is yours; take me any way you would like?'" (As if I had any choice in the matter!)

"Mon corps est à toi. Baise moi comme tu veux."

"Alors, mon corps est à toi; baise moi comme tu veux!" I parroted.

"Would you suck my nipples, then? No one has ever done that for me before."

"Rapproche-toi, puis. Come closer."

She knelt over me again, head-to-head this time, and brought first one breast and then the other within reach of my mouth. I took each nipple in turn between my lips, sucking gently and running my tongue around and across her hard little nubs.

"Je peux le sentir dans ma chatte! In my cunt!" she said in wonder, looking down the tunnel between our naked bodies. She lowered her hips and watched intently as my swollen prick settled in between the lips of her cunt like a hot dog wrapped up in a bun. I think this was the first time she had ever had complete control over a man, and she was determined to make the most of it.

She began to rock to and fro, rubbing the silky smooth slipperiness of her pussy lips back and forth along the shaft of my prick. At the same time, she leant forward and kissed me, sliding her tongue into my mouth for the first time. She kept her lips glued to mine and our tongues entwined as, still straddling me, she gradually worked her way up to another orgasm. This one was different, I could tell: quieter... but deeper, longer and stronger. As it finally faded, she broke our kiss, put her cheek against mine and sobbed quietly into my ear. I felt her tear run down my cheek and heard it fall onto the pillow.

I longed to take her in my arms to comfort her, but my hands were tied. With a flash of premonition, I realized that I would never again hear that trite phrase without remembering this evening; for the rest of my life... however long that turned out to be. I took a chance:

"Veux-tu me détacher, er... me libérer?" I hoped that at least one of the words said what I meant.

"No. I think I like you just the way you are. I have waited a long time for this, and now I'm going to fuck you, my way. I hope you last a long, long time."

"Moi aussi!" In more ways than one, I thought.

Lying on top of me with her face buried in the pillow, she spread her legs wide apart and we both felt my penis spring up between them. She reached a hand down between our bodies, took hold of it and guided it towards the mouth of her vagina. There was no part for me in this drama; I was simply a by-stander - a stage prop put there for her convenience. And as long as my prick stayed hard and her desire remained unquenched, she would use me.

I have never entered a woman more slowly. Almost imperceptibly, she eased her lithe body down over me, sliding her vagina over my prick with excruciating slowness. She was wet and open, and the head of my prick was already dripping with slippery pre-come, so between us we were well lubricated. Had she wanted to, she could have impaled herself on me right up to the hilt, but that was not what she had in mind. Instead, she began to rhythmically rock her hips, taking in just the head of my penis, again and again. Each time, she would tighten her vaginal muscles to increase the friction against the head of my prick, punctuating the moment of entry. In one of your stories, you wrote about that 'point of no return' when the head of a circumcised prick (like mine) slips into the mouth of a woman's vagina. It was this moment that she gorged herself on.

Under normal circumstances, I would have found the stimulation too intense to resist for very long, but these circumstances were far from normal. I don't know whether it was my still-present terror, or my enforced passivity, or her admonition that I should last a long, long time; but whatever the reason, my body failed to respond to her movements. As she reached down between us and began to rub her clit, I lay there like a limp rag doll (like you did on Intimacy Island!), watching almost dispassionately as she fucked herself on me.

I realized that having just discovered orgasms, she was now exploring what her body could do, given the right stimulation. As she began a series of climaxes, each more intense than the one before, she forced herself further and further onto my prick until I hit the end of her vagina. She gasped, bit my shoulder (No... the other one!), and came again. Her down time was even shorter than yours, if you can believe it, and I envy you both. After a while, she knelt back on her haunches, sat down on my still-hard penis, and explored the different sensations she could extract from that position.

Eventually, she began to tire. Covered in sweat, sated with pleasure, and gasping she said to me:

"Now, you must come! I want to feel you throbbing inside me!"

Easier said than done. My shoulders were beginning to cramp and my prick was sore from the workout she had already given it. I closed my eyes and thought of you; if that didn't work, nothing would. Funnily enough, it wasn't the passion of our afternoon on the island that came into my mind; it was the love we had made that morning after breakfast in bed - do you remember? I had never felt as close to another human being as I did to you just then, and the memory opened up neural channels between my brain and my penis. Suddenly I felt again the intensity of physical pleasure that you had given me that morning, the moment that I realized how much I truly loved you.

Holding tight to that memory, I began to thrust upwards with my hips: about the only freedom of movement I had left to me. She felt my renewed urgency; I just prayed she didn't realize that it was not for her. Still kneeling, she lifted her weight off my hips and let me fuck her from beneath. Throwing caution to the winds, I fucked her as if there was no tomorrow - maybe there wasn't, for me! This time, I couldn't give a toss what she was getting out of it. If this was to be my last orgasm, I was going to have it my way, and I was going to think of you as I came. I needn't have worried. My passion aroused her yet again, and as I thought of you and me lying in front of our mirror in your hideaway cottage, we came together, my prick exploding deep in her cunt and my semen running down out of her vagina all over my balls.

She slumped forward onto my chest, exhausted.

"Maintenant, veux-tu me libérer?" I asked, quietly. But she was already asleep.

When I awoke, the first light of dawn was breaking across the rooftops of Paris. Henry Miller would have loved it! I, on the other hand, was starving, badly cramped, and desperate to pee. Would she let me go this morning? I turned my head and kissed her temple, more from expediency than affection. She awoke, evidently surprised to find herself still naked and lying across my chest. As the memory of the night before came flooding back, she blushed to her roots and - voila! - there was my shrinking violet back again: Dr. Jekyll turning back into Ms. Hyde, or was it the other way around?

"Je t'implore: libérez-moi!"

"Will you promise me quelque chose?"

"Rien!"... I hoped I had just said 'Anything!' and not 'Nothing!'

"Will you fuck me again?" she asked shyly.

"Maintenant?" My heart sank... Could I?

"Pas maintenant, mais bientôt. Soon."

"Était-il assez sûr pour vous, alors?" If it was safe enough, maybe she'd let me use my arms next time!

"Oui, certainement," she flashed me one of her lightning smiles.

"Puis... d'accord. Avec plaisir."

We had a deal, thank God. She undid the handcuffs and I raced to the bathroom to empty my bursting bladder. Freedom had never felt so good! Later, over breakfast, I dared to ask her the question that was burning in my mind:

"Qui a tué votre amoureux? I had to know.

"I could tell you...", she said; "mais alors..." her voice dropped to a whisper and she smiled innocently at me: "but then, I would have to kill you...see."

Or had she said '...aussi'? I would never know.

So there you have it, my love. I'm now safely back in my own apartment, with the door securely locked and bolted. I have never felt so terrified in my entire life as when I was tied to that bed! But thinking of you got me through it in one piece... just. Thank you!

***

Virginia

Tuesday, May 30th, 2017.

Serves you damn well right! (Plus, you could have spared me the image of her tight little wiggly ass!)

***

Paris

Wednesday May 31st, 2017.

I love you too! And as for her TLWA, it doesn't hold a candle to yours! (Now, there's an image!)

TO BE CONTINUED...