Melissa Smith-Jones Ch. 01

"It's the symbolism of having you naked, and all that implies," he said.

"Yes, I'll bet it is," I said.

"Does your hotel have a bathtub?" Nigel asked.

"Yes. You don't look like you are in desperate need of a bath, however," I said.

"We can go swimming naked in your hotel room's bathtub," Nigel said.

"You may want to see me naked, but I'm not sure that I want to see you naked," I said.

"Ouch!" Nigel replied.

"You think buying me dinner will get me to sleep with you? Nigel, don't be crude," I said. "Buy me dinner for my charming company, or not at all," I continued, in what I hoped was a bitchy tone of voice. It's true that I hated to eat alone, especially alone in a restaurant. It always made me feel like a failure, somehow. The real desire for Nigel's company however was my fear of the stalker.

Nigel did in fact take me to lunch at Eden Rock Hotel. True to my word, I went to the ladies and removed my bra. Nigel stared at my boobs through my sheer blouse throughout the lunch. I was a bit embarrassed not by my flagrant exposure of my boobs, but rather by Nigel's visual obsession with them.

I even upped the ante and unbuttoned a couple of buttons, giving him a nice view of my bra-free cleavage. He was hard throughout the lunch. I giggled a lot. We went to the beach after lunch and of course I went topless. Nigel was thrilled. We went into the water together and stood and talked in the deep water.

We were in water up to my neck when suddenly I felt Nigel's hands on my boobs. "No, Nigel," I said. "You did not ask, and I did not give you permission to fondle me."

Nigel removed his hands. "Sorry, Melissa. May I have permission to fondle you, here in the deep water?"

I don't know why. Maybe I had changed with my involvement with Mike. Proper behavior no longer seemed important. I liked it when he fondled my boobs. Nobody could see him doing it, even if perhaps they could infer. But really, if nobody could see, and it felt good, what did it matter?

"Okay. Fondle to your heart's content, Nigel. But kiss me first. Kisses should come first," I said.

Nigel pulled me into him and he kissed me lovingly. His movement was so fluid, so commanding. His arms were so strong! I was being held in a vise like grip. I've always loved how strong some men are and it has always turned me on. This man is sexy I thought to myself, and I melted my almost naked body against his.

My eyes closed and I kissed him back. It was lovely. His hands were all over me, fondling not only my boobs but my entire body, and -oh my goodness- even my snatch. It took me long enough, but I realized that somehow I had become bottomless too! I was naked!

I panicked even as we continued to kiss. What was I going to do? How could I ever leave the deep water if I were naked? Oh, of course, I knew the answer. I'd ask Nigel to go ashore and bring me a large towel. I'd wrap myself in the towel when I emerged from the water. That thought was enough for my panic attack to wane just a bit.

These thoughts were put aside however by the ascendant emotions of being expertly fingered right there in the deep water, in front of a beach full of people gazing absently out at the beauty of the water. Nigel was getting to me. His fingers were moving faster and faster and oh my God he found my clit! I was about to climax. I had never come this fast before. Oh no, oh no, "OH YES!" I shouted as I lost my self-control and whatever decorum I had left.

I sank down under the water. I pulled down Nigel's trunks, and still submerged and holding my breath, I took his cock into my mouth, and massaged the rest of it with my hand. I did this for as long as I could and then rushed, sputtering to the surface to breathe. I grabbed another deep breath and submerged to suck some more.

Nigel pushed me away from his cock and I gratefully surfaced, happy to breathe. Nigel lifted me half out of the water, presumably to get yet another good look at my boobs. I automatically wrapped my legs around him to save his back. I forgot how much buoyancy the water gave to the weight of my body. Not that I weigh that much of course, but any girl is self-conscious when a man lifts her. How naïve I was. Wrapping my legs around him in some sort of automatic gesture was exactly what Nigel wanted. He placed me slowly back down right onto his cock!

Holy shit, Nigel was inside me and he had not even bought me dinner yet. He started pumping and I reflexively began to bounce up and down on his cock. I was so turned on I was not even thinking that it must have been obvious to anyone who looked that we were fucking in the deep water in front of a beach full of people.

I also did not think about the fact that I was openly fucking a man I barely knew, whom I had met when he asked me the time of day only the day before. This would go down as a new record for being easy. What would Jane say when I told her? She would blame the beach. I could hear her now, "The rules don't apply on the beaches of the south of France," she would say.

"Babies conceived in the south of France lead to the same pregnancies that they do in the bedrooms of New York!" I would reply. Jane would then remind me that I was on the pill. We would both giggle.

I even moaned. I was not loud, and we were outside so the sound dissipated quickly, but anyone near to us could have heard palpable moans. That too both scared me and turned me on. I was in arousal overload.

The realization that we were exhibitionist fucking in public got me so aroused I climaxed right then and there while Nigel fucked me. Over Nigel's shoulder I saw a man a short distance away from us, perhaps close enough to hear my moans. He was watching us intently. I caught his eye and he winked. He then dove underwater. It took a second or two before I realized the man was my stalker. My heart sank.

Nigel had his two hands attached securely to my waist as he pounded me with his cock. His style was reminiscent of Mike. I thought fleetingly about Mike pummeling his wife while Nigel pummeled me and I smiled. It served Mike right. His strong hands held me firmly. There was no escaping them, but then I most certainly no longer wanted to escape!

With his third hand Nigel gently stuck a finger into my asshole. Nobody had ever fingered my ass while fucking me before and again for reasons I did not understand, I found it hyper erotic. Nigel really knew how to turn a girl on beyond all reason.

Nigel's third hand? Wait a minute. Nigel was talented, sure, but he had only two hands like everyone else, and they were both firmly planted in his vise grip on my waist. I'm not great at math, but I can count to two as well as the next girl.

Who was fingering my asshole? Even as I wondered that and began to freak out, I succumbed to my third climax with Nigel. Okay, I know I cum easily, but this was ridiculous! I let loose a scream as I came, and my body shook all over. I might even have squirted. I do that rarely, but it happens. Nobody would know thank goodness since my squirt was instantly lost to the salty water of the Mediterranean. Maybe Nigel felt my squirt through his cock? Who knew? Who cared at this point?

The finger left my asshole, but oblivious Nigel went right on plowing my fertile field. I was all sensitized by the three orgasms and every single one of his thrusts my sensitized pussy now felt intensely. This was formidable. My nipples were rubbing his chest as I rose and fell on his cock, his strong hands pushing me up and letting gravity aide my plunge back down onto his wondrous cock.

I opened my eyes just in time to see my stalker surfacing behind Nigel again. He winked at me and held up a finger. I'm sure it was the finger that had just been in my asshole and combined with Nigel's cock had driven me to such orgiastic bliss. Doubtless the salt water had cleaned his finger from the inevitable yuck of my asshole, so it was okay when the stalker raised it to his mouth and sucked his own ass-beguiling finger lovingly. He winked at me, dove underwater again, and in a minute or two he surfaced and I saw him swimming away.

After Nigel finally filled me up with his cum, he helped me to stand in the deep water, and we both breathed heavily for a short while, recovering from the extraordinary times we had just experienced. When normalcy returned, Nigel kissed me again. It was another long and lovely kiss. I decided not to mention the ass fingering. It was my secret. Mine, and my stalker's.

"Let's go rest in the sun," Nigel said.

"Are you still taking me to dinner? You've already gotten to fuck me, as I assume you know, so I can't promise you that thrill as a reward," I said.

"Of course, you can. After a fuck like that all that I want is more and more. You are an addictive little trollop, you are. I'm taking you to the best restaurant in Juan-les-Pins, at the Beau Rivages Hotel. Afterwards, if you will permit me, I'll walk you to your hotel. You never know about those stalkers, now, do you?" Nigel was taunting me. He still didn't believe I was being stalked. I was sure he wouldn't believe the help he received from the stalker while fucking me, either, now would he?

I wondered what a trollop was? Some sort of British slang, I thought. Should I be offended, flattered, or neither? That's the problem with being ignorant.

Nigel took my hand and began to lead me to the shore.

"Uh, Nigel, I seem to have lost my bikini bottoms. I'm naked. I can't leave the water like this," I meekly said.

"Pity that. I'd still love to see you naked, my little wench," he said.

Okay, 'wench' is a word I understood. Was it a term of endearment or an insult? From Nigel, given the context and his tone of voice, I took it to be the former.

"Patience is a virtue. Put enough wine in me at dinner and if you can fuck me like that again, then I'm yours, any way you want me," I said. I reached down and brushed him in the right place and saw that my remark had already made him hard. I giggled.

"I should give you this, then, Melissa. But you can't put it on until I see your pussy in the open air," Nigel said, as he held my bikini bottoms just out of my reach. He began to lead me to the shallow water, closer to the shore. I turned around so that my back faced the shore as we walked.

As soon as my pussy cleared the water I reached out for the bikini bottoms. He pulled me a little closer to the shore and then he gave me my bottoms, all the time studying his view of my naked body, visible from my head to my knees. "Part your legs, lover," he said, and as he said that I was looking dead straight on at my stalker. I was in between my stalker and the shore. He was perfectly positioned. He was also quite obviously hard. Boy, was he! The man was enormous, if you know what I mean.

I parted my legs, more for the stalker than for Nigel. Nigel did not even notice the stalker; he was too distracted by my display. I stood there, frozen, staring deeply into the eyes of my stalker. His eyes were going up and down checking out my body over and over again.

"Don't you want to take your bikini bottoms, lover?" Nigel said. He placed them in my hand. Still, I stood there frozen. Both men stared. I felt eyes on my back, too, and remembered I was naked and showing off my bare backside to the assembled masses on the beach. Without a word I took the bottoms and slowly put them on. I did it slowly to stretch out the show for my stalker. I got my first big smile from him, and I felt like an idiot for having done so, but I returned the smile.

I always return a smile of a man. It's automatic. But to return the smile of a stalker? That's insane! Anyway, once I finally had the bottoms securely on me my stalker turned around, dove into the water, and swam away. He has a nice body, I idiotically thought.

IV. Antibes, Day Three, The Evening

Dinner was wonderful. I once again went without a bra and wore another sheer blouse. Every other woman there was correctly dressed with a full complement of lingerie. I felt like an exhibitionist harlot. I idly wondered why it was okay to go to topless on the beach, but provocative to go without a bra in town? Well, it did not matter why. It's just the way it was.

Nigel had listened to me and he plied with me wine. It was easy to do, because just before he came to pick me up I had texted Mike saying I could not wait for him to return. In my second text I added, "I may have found a man for the threesome you want. I miss you so much!" That was my ace in the hole re my competition with his bitchy wife, Ann Christine. The promise of his long-desired threesome would get him back to me fast.

Truth be told I was not missing him much, with Nigel giving me everything I could possibly want on the romance and raw sex fronts. As an extra bonus I melted whenever he spoke in his seductive British accent. I was not about to tell Mike any of this of course. After all, Mike paid the rent for my fancy New York apartment. I was damn well going to keep him happy!

I got a text back. I reproduce it in its entirety here.

My dearest love Melissa,

It seems Ann Christine knows about us. I cannot come back down to Juan-les-Pins, and in fact I cannot see you anymore, ever. Not at all. I do love you, but society does not allow me to love more than one woman at a time, and I have to choose. I choose Ann Christine. Enjoy the rest of your time in Juan-les-Pins, and I will always treasure our memories together. You'll have to take over the rent of your apartment too, I'm afraid. Ann Christine knows everything. She's even seen the videos and is angry I never submitted her to bondage, too. Can you believe it? Goodbye my love, Mike.

PS: How about a farewell picture of your naked body? I can never get enough.

I was devastated. A 'Dear John' text? Who breaks up with a woman he loves by text? What a fucking coward! I knew exactly the picture I was going to send him, with a cc to Ann Christine. I would need help to arrange the pose, but that's why God dumped Nigel into my lap and into my pussy, now, isn't it?

I dashed off another email to Jane and dressed for dinner. As I said, I loved the meal and the view over the bay of Golfe-Juan was stunning. I studied the view while Nigel of course studied my boobs, clearly visible through my sheer blouse.

"Something's wrong. You look sad," Nigel said. At some point he must have looked at my face. "You're putting up a brave front, but something happened. Want to tell me?"

The wine plus Nigel's caring and perceptive manner opened the floodgates and I began to sob. I said nothing. I was not capable of speech through my sobbing, right there in the restaurant. People were looking, but I could not stop myself. I got out my phone and showed him the text, leaving my phone with him as I ran to the ladies. I stayed in the ladies for a good long time until I was sure I was through with my weeping.

Once I had regained my composure I returned to our table, holding my head high. Everyone looked at me. The women radiated sympathy while I'm sure the men were simply studying my boobs. Women and men are so different. It never ceases to amaze me.

My first words were, "I need your help with the picture he wants," I said. "I'm sending him two, and I'll cc Ann Christine," I said.

"Of course," Nigel said. "I'm sorry, Melissa. Mike is a fool."

I forced a smile. It's a nice trait that we women have. No matter how torn up we are inside, if we're with a man, we can always produce a smile. "Thank you, Nigel." I added, "Really, thank you."

"I took the liberty of ordering a Scotch whiskey for you. The Scotch and the Irish make good whiskey. We English make gin. I don't even know what the hell the Welsh make," Kevin said. "Drink up, it will do you good."

"Be careful. I'm part Welsh, you know," I said.

"I figured. Everyone there is named Jones, Williams or Davis. It looks like you are the product of a mixed marriage," Nigel said.

"How so?" I asked.

"Jones and Smith. Welsh and English. The Welsh hate the English and the English think the Welsh are not even worth hating, which makes the Welsh hate us all the more," Nigel said.

I drank. It was wonderful Scotch. I said as much.

"It's a rare Scotch. Aged 30 years. It's older than you are and I'm sure if the makers of the Scotch were to feel it touch your lips, they would be as enchanted by the sweet lusciousness of your lips as I am," he said.

"You mean the lips of my mouth, right?" I said, teasing him. After all, like all women I have lips down there too, don't I now?

"So pretty and with such a dirty mind. God, Mike is stupid," he said.

I fought back a new onset of tears. "Please don't mention him again. Tell me about yourself. We've already made love and yet I know so little about you," I said.

Asking a man to talk about himself usually is like asking a strong wind to blow. Nigel was no exception, except that he spoke in that beautiful English accent of his, in the King's English with all of those wonderful English idioms and slang, and I was enchanted listening to the music of his voice. What's more, unexpectedly, he was even interesting!

Nigel had a fascinating life. His work paid well but it was high pressure and to avoid what seemed to be an imminent nervous breakdown he followed his doctor's advice and took a few days off to go to the beach in the south of France. That is of course where he asked me the time of day.

"Only a few days?" I whined plaintively.

"I'm afraid so," he said. "I have to return tomorrow, early afternoon. Right back into the crucible, too, I'm afraid."

I had expected something like this. Whirlwind beach romances are like that, often enough. I liked Nigel, and I lusted for him, but I did not have history with him as I did with Mike, and besides a London/New York love affair would not work for a girl like me.

"Let's make tonight memorable then, shall we?" I said.

We did, too. I took out Mike's bondage materials and had Nigel bind and gag me on the bed, but this time with my legs suspended above me. This opened up my pussy and my asshole to the camera. Behind one saw my boobs sticking up like little hills, each topped with a small pink cherry. Beyond my boobs one beheld my smiling face. He took a series of pictures of me like that.

I next had him fuck me like that. He had absolutely no objections and maybe even a little too much enthusiasm to be taking me while I was bound and helpless. He drove me once again to a lovely climax, even without the benefit of a beach full of potential voyeurs. He did however have all those windows to help him out on the voyeur front, since I left the blinds up. He then quickly took another sequence of photos with his cum oozing out of my pussy, clearly visible in the pictures.

Nigel released me from my bondage, and once he recovered I fucked him reverse cowgirl style, with his iPhone camera on timed release. That way the camera saw a healthy cock pleasuring me in my pussy but my naked body blocked the view of the head of the man fucking me. Perfect.

After Nigel dumped another load inside me, his third of the day if you count the fuck at the beach - and who wouldn't count that? - we sat together naked on the bed and went through the pictures, choosing a few to send to Mike.

I quickly sent the pictures to Mike before I lost my nerve, each picture in a separate text. I added little captions. Under the bondage picture showing off my pussy and especially my asshole I wrote, "Try this pose with Ann Christine. She likes assholes." It was great to be so soused. It made it easier to write things like that, and to send such outlandish pictures!

I ended up not sending cc's to Ann Christine for the simple reason that I did not have her text address.

Nigel decided to reapply the bondage and we made love that way yet another time. He had never done bondage before. For some reason I got into sex with bondage. The kinky aspect of being helpless like a slave to the man always acted as a catalyst to my natural arousal, driving me to new heights.