My First Time in Paris

Slowly she raised her body and turned, giving me full frontal view of everything. "It" was nearly all shaved, only a small strip above her labia was left. I closed my eyes, she giggled. The music finally stopped, she took my hand, pulled me towards the bed and put down the candle, grabbed a bottle of oil and poured some in my hands. I spread the oil between my them as she stretched her self while whispering; "touch me, every where,...touch me...please, come." Slowly I lowered my hands, carefully smearing the oil over her upper back and shoulders. I was shaking, my brain screamed; "One of the most beautiful woman in the world is telling you to touch all of her even the unspeakable places! Do what she says, this is what you always wanted, this is what men do, come on do it!"

It must have been an eternity when I finally dared to rub her buttocks as she arched her back to give me full access to the area between her legs... as if to tell me: "get used to it, I know you are looking at me. I love it... come on, take another look... touch me!"

Whatever I couldn't see in the dim light I made up by carefully stroking her legs and buns. She moaned and wiggled and with her eyes closed she slowly guided my fingers where ever she wanted them. My heart stopped when I felt her wet slippery insides! I shuddered, again, she opened her eyes and said: "I want you to play with my body, you need to be comfortable with it and I want you to take off all your clothes... come on... do it pour moi, seulement pour moi...vous êtes un beau garçon...venir à moi." I hesitated, I was scared to death. I had never been hard and naked in front of a woman before. She noticed and got up to pull me from the bed and said: "Yesterday you were posing in swimwear for the whole world to see...'il est bon, ne pas peur'...don't be afraid. I am your friend, I am the only one that can see you now...you see me, I want you to hold me in your arms."

She helped me out of my shirt and sat on her knees to tug at my shorts that I still very much wanted to keep on. She looked up and yanked them down and stumbled: "Ah... good...'tu es grande'...I like very much!"

Ah, thanks goodness, she is happy with me. I am no longer a little boy!

She too was getting very excited, her speech became more French mixed with English. She started to sweat and pant again, nothing was left of the calm, graceful, disciplined lady that I had gotten to know. Hell, I too was sweating like a dog...and got ever more excited. What was going to happen?!

She carefully took my cock in her left hand, kissed it and then cupped my balls in her right. I took a step back. She let go of my balls and reached her right arm around my bum and pulled me right back in to her mouth.

My penis is her mouth! Whoa, that felt so unbelievable. I nearly fainted. She started to suck me harder and harder. My cock had never been as erect and pulsated so strong it nearly hurt. A subtle pain that by all measures was the best pain I ever felt. The deeply satisfying pain of finally getting licked, sucked and caressed by the women of impossible dreams!

Isabella stopped, licked my balls before moving her tongue upward, over my belly, chest before kissing me on my lips. She then pulled me back on to the bed, in to her arms and passionately kissed me. She reached for my throbbing cock and slowly guided me inside her. I nearly passed out, again. My head pounded with emotion and a sensory overload. The heat, the wetness, the tightness, the intense feeling of closeness was truly overwhelming.

My whole body was about to explode...then she whispered what I remember to be : "Breath slow, relax your legs, go slow...go slow...yes, go deeper...I love to feel you inside...relax, your muscles...breath deep and slow...hold me...relax...get used to me, make love to me, move faster...venir...venir, venir, come...come...closer...oui...yes...bon!"

And then, after about ten minutes she started to cramp, squeal and squirm and to my shock sprayed water all over my thighs!"

"What was that!?"

"No, no...it is OK, just go on...keep moving, push deeper inside me!"

I couldn't believe it, was this really happening!? A part of me was inside another person, a woman every man would love to devour, in every and especially the way she was demanding me to do it.

I pushed harder, and moved very fast for about two long minutes, then stopped and held my cock all the way inside her for a few seconds. I pushed as far I could against the resistance of her vagina's wall. The pulsating sensation while kissing her and feeling her nipples on my chest was overwhelming and I suddenly felt an intense tightening of my inner legs muscles. She told me "come, move faster and come, come inside me, give me your baby juice."

Baby juice?! What was I supposed to do? Before I knew what was about to happen my testicles cramped and I too burst in to an unforgettable shuddering orgasm. It was so intense that I felt tears in my eyes and my whole body shook. I actually rolled off the bed and as I climbed back on top to reenter her I glanced down at my cock, still hard and throbbing, moving in and out of her now foaming pussy. It was so amazing to watch that we both looked at it until my firmness finally subsided and we just kissed and smiled. I saw her with different eyes. She had become a goddess, a miracle, a way to heavenly sensations I had never felt before. And before I knew what really took place she went down on me, taking my entire cock in her mouth and sucked me hard again within about five amazing minutes. Words can't describe the feeling, I was certain "Oh, Isabella I will love you for ever! Did you hear me...je t'aime?"

During the next hours she showed me all of the places she wanted me to see, feel and, -a journey that surpassed any dream I ever wanted to come true and I am forever grateful as nothing could have been more beautiful. I had finally become a man! And to this day, I don't know why, but, the next morning I called my mom and said: "Mama, I am in Paris. Everything is great. Well...Mama, I have become a man!

She asked: "Oh...OK...can I speak to the lucky lady...?

"Uh...yes, of course," I handed Isabella the phone, she smiled. They talked for while in French...I beamed with pride and glanced at the fireplace mantel and smiled. There it was a bronze statue of Thor, the Nordic God who conquered his goddess Járnsaxa...it couldn't have been more perfect...I had conquered my greatest fear and desire. I became a man in the arms of the words most beautiful woman and my mother would be proud of me! She better since I wouldn't change a thing.

The following weeks Isabella continued to show me a whole new world, this time the one behind the glamorous magazine covers, the current fashions, the beautiful bodies and faces that compel men and women to buy the products they pose with. Over time, parts of that superficial world started to become clear. I saw how it worked. She talked about how the image of beauty is a carefully contrived artificial product. "You'd be surprised to know how little of what you see in the pages of glamour magazines has anything to do with public values or the demand of the masses. Even the smallest detail, like a colored shoestring or an off-center hat on the head of a tomboyish model, is the work of a few clever minds who make a small group of the well-to-do believe they are responsible for setting a trend. These designers, mostly gay, dictate what the hetero market will buy, prompting an endless stream of mainly Asian workers in copycat factories to crank out products that lose their value at the end of the season. My job is to understand what these few clever guys are doing when they present these designs to the world."

One morning while I was still lying in bed finishing the last pages of Larry Collins and Dominique La Pierre's book Is Paris Burning? Isabella got out of the shower, walked past the mirror, stopped, and took a good look at her body. She turned around and checked out the shapely hard buns that had made her famous among bikini designers. They called her "Little Elle," comparing her to Elle McPherson, who, at six feet, looked less glamorous but was an inch taller than Isabella and was known in the fashion industry as "The Body." Some designers preferred Isabella to wear their best creations "to fill things up" as they said. That led to a run of the most outrageous bathing suits, some made of the skimpiest strings and things that even I didn't think a woman should wear in public.

I still may have been a bad judge of fashion, but I was finally able to look at her without blushing as she walked around naked. I now soaked up every eyeful and wanted more. I was spellbound by her fatal gift of beauty. How could anyone ever get enough? Isn't the beauty of a woman the most powerful force that drives a man, hell, the entire economy? As she stood before the mirror, slowly moving her hands up her belly and across her nipples, she turned to give me a naughty smile and said, "This doesn't last forever, you know. Let's both enjoy it while we can." Did she mean her body, our relationship, or both?

Before I could respond, she stepped over, tossed back her long dark blonde manes, and crawled back into bed. Still wet from the shower, she kissed me deeply and said, "Don't ever stop looking at me the way you just did. It really does something to a woman. I know what you want, and now I will teach you a little more about what women want." She straddled me between her legs and lowered herself down on me. She kissed me and said in her typically mischievous voice, "I always laugh at how serious we models take ourselves, but if we didn't, we wouldn't stay on top."

I had finally settled into life with Isabella and had begun to think of our time together as almost routine when her friend Véronique came to stay with us. Véronique was a swimsuit model from the south of France who was in Paris for a shoot, and she was very friendly. It never even occurred to her to sleep in Isabella's guest bedroom, opting instead to cuddle with us, opening up a whole new dimension to our relationship.

It was hypnotic to watch the two of them together. Véronique's gentle caresses, kisses, nibbles, licks, and teasing made my way of touching Isabella seem like a barbarian wrestling match. They insisted that I follow Véronique's lead, get over my shyness, and learn to show my emotion through touch. "There is nothing manly about clumsiness," Véronique whispered as she guided my fingers over and in to Isabella's body and her own. "Look how softly, how slowly, how carefully I fondle her nipples, her earlobes, and..." Yes I get it, let me try. "No, no, no, still too hard, too fast. Let the sensation saturate her brain, let it do its magic. Don't skip to the next part. It's not the amount of area you cover but the amount of subtle sensation you create."

A woman, they explained, is a totally different creature than a man. A man must be taught to feel. I was confused ... until they both started to touch me ... ooh, soo softly. It's amazing what a good ear nibbling and a licking of the neck can do to your heartbeat! To watch their beautiful faces and bodies come together in their inch-for-inch discovery of my body nearly made me lose my mind. It was a sensory overload. I had to close my eyes, floating off in ecstasy, unaware of who it was who rode me to a shuddering climax. I would have joined any religion if that's what it took for this lesson in sensual exploration never to end until I watched Veronique lick Isabella after I came deep inside her. They had asked me to cum inside their mouths before and orally shared my sperm. At first I thought it was the strangest thing but it was so sexy and hot to watch them really enjoy drinking my "boy sap," encouraging me to "feed" them several times a day. Veronique loved licking us while I was fucking Isabella. Squeezing and licking my balls, pulling out my cock and sucking me and then guiding me back inside Isabella, who whispered me to lick her too in-between fuck-sessions.

I tasted Isabella's beautiful pussy juices mixed with Veronique's saliva and once I got passed an initial sense of rejection it started to really loosen me up and absolutely turn me wild. I remember consciously letting go of layer after layer of cultural and instinctive reservations. All the taboos that were part of normal female/male interaction, as I knew them to be, were not only ignored but replaced by ways of sexual enterprise I have never even heard of. Yes, my friends back in Holland had spoken of "fingering" girls and "french" kissing them, even licking their boobies and some had whispered about oral sex, but what these two vixens did in Paris was something no one would believe and the more they did new things the more confident and inspired I became. I too wanted to introduce something new. And one morning, after a night of licking, fucking and "boy sap" swapping I slowly pushed my Veronique-pussy-juice moistened middle finger in to Isabella's ass. She opened her eyes wide, moaned and then begged me to fuck her while she licked Veronique who grabbed my left middle finger, licked it and guided in straight in to her ass. Whoa! That was something I had not expected as all.

They loved it! I had actually opened a whole new chapter of play. But of course, something I had not thought of was the hygienic aspects and Veronique quickly showed me how to clean out their bums before I fingered them. And as to be expected and to my horror, once they cleaned themselves with a large syringe type tool they begged me to slowly shove my 9 inch cock up their booties.

At that point I knew how big my cock was because they had whipped out to the tailor measuring tape when they were sowing one of their summer dresses and called over "hey big boy let us measure that thing." Veronique sucked me hard and Isabella, while letting out her hilarious laughs, measured from the base to top and said "ah, it is as I told you, a clean 22 cm."

I knew I was bigger than most guys, not a monster, but just a bit bigger because my friends back in Holland had told me and had to my initial chagrin even given me funny nickname describing that fact. But their opinion was based on soft-state observation. I had no idea if it was really that much bigger than normal erect. The girls noticed I briefly debated this most important fact and said "Don't worry about it. You're a big boy but don't get too excited, it's how you use it what makes you a good lover, not the size. And we got some teaching to do."

Sure, I knew, I was still a bit rough and couldn't figure out how finger one while fucking the other without losing my rhythm. Licking nipples without hurting them was another skill I was working on. Veronique loved it hard and rough while Isabella could organs from me sucking her boobies but only if I did it very gently. At night, under semi-dark conditions I wasn't even sure whose breast I felt pressed against my mouth. But that too was about to change. I didn't develop night vision but my sense for gentle licking and suckling sure improved.

After about a week of climaxing about three to four times per day I asked them if it was normal my balls start cramping from the frequent intense climaxes. They smiled and told me that it should be fine and I would get used to it. I had been wrong about most erotic and sexual details. I had been wrong about not being able to enjoy watching them lick each other "clean" after I climaxed in them. In fact I began loving it, as it made me feel important to them, these gorgeous goddesses of sex and passion every man stared at whenever we went out in town, all over Paris. I actually offered them something that I viewed as very personal, my bodily fluids. The cramping I expected too to go away and it did as soon I started to eat more eggs and drink twice the amount of water.

It was as fascinating as it was frustrating to see these two troublemakers "work the room" wherever we went to. All it took is for them to enter for everyone to take note and change their behavior. Over six foot in heels their classic beautiful features stood out from every one else, even the other so called "hotties."

It visually disturbed other woman, throwing them off their game. Men were unable able to take their eyes off of them, which only made it worse. Their no-bra policy made Veronique and Isabella a disruptive force they managed so refined that one would swear they were oblivious of the impact it had. Sure, in France women often left their bra's at home but most of them didn't also have Isabella's and Veronique's faces and bodies. I knew well of their preparation, their deliberate choices to look a certain way, wearing revealing clothes and minimalist make-up, moving daringly close to the inappropriate. Loving every second of the impact they were going have on everyone that laid eyes on them. At other times they chose a dress that covered up their entire body but because they had hemmed their buttock area and just enough around their free bounding massive memes in subtle ways that drove men to the brink. Expecting to see a gorgeous women in a beautiful evening dress they too were given a peek at the figure below the ordain fabric, The frustrating part, I knew so well from my own experience, how their mere presence set off a fury of hormonal chemicals that smashed proper composure. To to see grown men fall apart upon seeing these two smooth, elegant, smiling, hip swaying manipulating masters of deception was perhaps not as devastating, but otherwise in every way as fascinating as a master magician make a rabbit appear out of a hat, or a bikini clad lady disappear in a cloud of confetti. Where we men really that weak and stupid...or was nature just doing it's work to make sure enough of us continued the absurd cycle of give and take and these two witches merely took a little more than most when the picking was made so easy?

I was not left any time to drift off in more than topical philosophical analysis of their bi-polar game of deduction. Not even two weeks in to Veronique's stay they told me to cum in both of them at the same time. Veronique would lay on top of Isabella, lift her mind-blowing, ball-draining ass up in the air for me to enter her and then tell me to switch to Isabella, going back and forth for about thirty minutes. In between licking them both to orgasm and reentering them again until I climaxed. Half way the orgasm I would quickly pull out Veronique and spray the last ounces in to Isabella. They would then 69 each other, licking and swallowing every drop out each other's pussies which drove them both to another orgasm. In between licking they would look up at me and smile. With cum-bubbles dripping from her pretty mouth Veronique said "you see what we do with it, nothing goes to waste. You should eat lots of eggs and pineapple from the fridge." When I turned to head over to the kitchen Isabella, lifting her head from Isabella's pussy, added "It makes your sap taste even better." Now I understood why they bought a lot of pineapple and fruits, nuts and eggs. As I shoveled down my first slices, peeking aver at the two slobbering ladies, I intuitively I knew this latest addition to "Porn University" was something I better not share with my mother.

The next day Isabella and Véronique continued their instruction on the nature of female beauty and sensuality. Isabella was still dressing up for a charity event to be held in the gardens at Versailles. She slid her tan, smooth, thirty-six-inch legs into a short summer dress as she explained to me, "A woman's power lies in her ability to use her brain, develop confidence, yet remain feminine in a man's world. By doing so she makes life less manly, less insensitive." She put on her shoes, got up, and took a last look in the mirror. "Being beautiful is no different than being smart, strong, talented, driven, or plain old fashioned hard working. These qualities are either taught, genetically passed on, or consciously adopted. However they come about, they are merely qualities whose value should be measured only in terms of what anyone does with them. I use my beauty to sell clothes, but I will not use it to take advantage of men. They offer me Ferraris, Bentleys, and homes on the Riviera, but I will not have them. I would be selling my soul if I did. These men would have control over me, and I would lose my identity."