Hotbeds Ch. 09

She burst into tears and they streamed down her temples onto the pillow. I held her tight and said, 'There's nothing so terrible about those scars. They're just operation scars like other operation scars. The woman with those scars is still you and still a woman. And you can feel there's no change in my response to your body.' My penis continued rigid against her thigh.

'Look in my eyes,' I continued, and, continuing to gaze into her huge wet eyes I lifted myself between her thighs, and, without preliminaries entered her. 'Can you see what I feel, inside you and about you?'

She made a great effort and dried her eyes with the coverlet.

'What do you see?' I asked. 'Am I shocked? Am I not looking at you just as I did when we met, and when we had made love earlier?'

She didn't answer but pulled my head down and kissed me.

'Now I want to enter your blissful port, and enjoy your forested bottom,' I said.

She turned over and knelt up and I positioned myself behind her. Her cheeks began, separately, above her hips and arced outwards and downwards, coming together after a few inches. This left a little hollow above her coccyx. They curved tightly in both planes and tucked under to meet her thighs, parting again at their lowest. Up the cleavage, diminishing as it went, ran a line of short, straight, black hair.

'Oh, that is so beautiful,' I said. 'Perfect.'

Leaning back to find the angle for entry, I slid into her vagina and eased in and out a few time. Then I withdrew and slid my cock forward in the vulval groove to meet that great clitoris. Gliding back and forth I rubbed against it a few times. Then I thrust up into her cunt.

'Is this enjoyable, dear Jeanne?' I asked, having established this routine of clitoral touching and vaginal entry.

She was panting and pushing back to match my movements. 'Yes. It is making me, making me. The épectase is going to be.' She used the French word for 'orgasm.'

I could feel her vagina gripping and releasing on the in-strokes and as she tensed, and the flood of ecstasy took her, I pushed all the way, straining to cram in the last millimetre and jetted my sperm in throbbing spurts.

As my cock shrank I rolled us onto our sides and we lay spent, and as I slid out I climbed over her to hold her tight against me, chest to chest.

'You enjoyed my bott-om,' she said, leaning on the second syllable.

I kissed her, and stroked it.

After some time, we got up and had a shower together. Then we made a simple meal and went walking to the sea. The beach was deserted. I stripped Jeanne, then myself and we swam, sunbathed, ran about and eventually retired into the dunes. I sucked and licked that magnificent clitoris erect and she came with a cry of joy.

That August continued in what felt like endless days, and nights, of walking, sleeping, love-making, occasional eating and more love-making. I call it that, rather than 'fucking' because that was how it felt. We did love each other, though we knew that though the days seemed endless, we also knew the month was not. I would have to be back at the school in mid-September. Whether she had to be somewhere I didn't know.

Nothing was said about exactly when the idyll would end, but, without her making an announcement, I knew when the last night arrived.

After some hours of sleep she woke me, beginning to caress me. The announcement was in her eyes, as she said, 'Lie still. I must do this.'

She licked and kissed her way down my body to my erect penis, coated with dried secretions from us both. She took it in her mouth and sucked and licked till I was approaching orgasm.

She let me go a moment and said, 'Let me drink you.'

I knew she was seeking a further intimacy to think of after we parted, and I drew her back to my cock and very quickly I filled her mouth and she gulped it down. Then we slept again.

In the morning she again woke me, and, 'Quick,' she said. 'Quick as you can.'

She pulled me on top of her and opened her legs. 'Inside now,' she ordered.

She was sticky but I forced my way in and began to jab deeper.

'Don't wait,' she said.

I thrust vigorously, and as I came she shuddered, locked me in her legs and arms and shouted 'Enfin, dans moi, dans mon vagin, ma chatte, mon con.'

It was as if she were making our sex together the more real by saying it.

An hour later, showered, dressed in blouse, skirt, stockings and court shoes, after a hasty bowl of milky coffee and a croissant, she kissed me, like a wife going off to work. She pressed me back in my chair when I made to see her off. Then she strode to the door, passed through, closed it firmly, and was gone.

Of course, I knew she was married, twenty years older, a woman with a profession to pursue in her own country. But nonetheless I had entertained fantasies of her coming to England with me, or, easier perhaps, of my settling in France to be with her.

I wondered what to do for the remaining days of the summer holidays, torn between enjoying the freedom and possible explorations in Normandy and the fear of melancholia now Jeanne was gone. At least I would stay another day or two while I decided, and next day a letter came from Denise. She would be coming down from Paris at the weekend and would I stay on, because she wanted to see me. What happened is told in the next chapter.