Parallel Lives Pt. 03

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It didn't take long before they were both stood in Chantal's room, which Johnny realised with no small sense of irony, was located immediately below Mrs. Verbier's bedroom. Chantal's accommodation was much smaller than the ostentatious penthouse suite above, but was nevertheless bigger than his entire apartment - a night in a room like this would easily cost him a month's wages.

For a moment they just stood facing each other, taking in the sight and scent of each other, drinking it all in now that they were alone together. Chantal stood looking effortlessly elegant and stylish in her black evening dress, as Johnny stood opposite her, resplendently smart in his dinner jacket, crisp white shirt and black silk bow tie that looked as though it was made of pure obsidian.

"So, here we are then," Chantal said as she stepped forward and took him in her arms.

"This is just so..." Johnny began before trailing off.

"Sudden?" Chantal ventured to complete his thought for him.

"Yeah, it is a bit," he responded. "I mean, I only met you yesterday."

"But this is okay, oui?" she asked him tentatively. "You do wantto be here with me, do you not?"

Johnny thought about his response for a moment, and decided that his actions would speak louder than his words.

"Let me put it this way," he said, and then stepped forward, placed his right hand on the back of her head, brought his lips towards hers, and kissed her.

From that moment on, everything that followed was a natural progression. The wheels had been set in motion, with only one possible outcome. As they continued to kiss, Johnny found the zipper of her dress at the top of its neckline, and slowly he started to take it down. Just as he had started undressing her, she began undressing him, first undoing his bow tie, and then unbuttoning his shirt. Her fine silk dress fell off her shoulders and onto the floor almost as soon as the zipper was down as far as it would go, revealing her black lace lingerie, French of course, that incorporated a subtle floral design. The ensemble's design was translucent enough to give a hint of the feminine delights that it concealed, and it set Johnny's heart racing in anticipation. As he observed her in her lingerie with her dress bunched in a heap at her feet, Johnny felt two lumps beginning to make their presence felt - one in his throat, and the other in his underwear.

"Oh, God," he said with a quivering sigh as she continued to undress him, relieving him of his dinner jacket. "Vous êtes très belle, Chantal."

"Oh! Tu parles Français, Johnny?" Chantal grinned as she reacted to hearing him use her native tongue."

"En petit peu," Johnny smiled. "Just enough to order a cup of coffee, and to tell a woman that I think she's very beautiful."

"So, you think I look pretty, huh, Johnny?" she chuckled as she kicked her dress away and slipped her shoes off.

"You look more than just pretty, Chantal," Johnny responded as he placed his hand upon her thigh, gently grazing the top of her stocking. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

"Oh, Monsieur Johnny, you tease me so!" Chantal giggled. "You are, how you say in this country, a real charmer!"

"With someone as gorgeous as you, being charming is the easiest thing in the world," Johnny countered as his fingers eased into the top of her left stocking and began to slowly take it down.

All the while he made sure to maintain eye contact with her to assure himself that she was okay with him undressing her. The look she returned to him spoke of nothing less than one hundred percent enthusiasm - she was enjoying allowing him to reveal her body to him.

Chantal stepped out of her stockings, and stood before him in nothing more than her bra and panties.

"I guess this is only fair, non?" she teasingly asked him. "Since I saw you naked this morning, it is only fair at you get to see me naked in return - then we can be even, oui?"

Johnny smiled, he felt himself being utterly charmed by her - she was quite unlike any other woman he'd ever been with before. He stepped forward and brought his lips to hers once more. As they kissed, he reached around behind her back and fumbled with the fastenings of her bra before the small metal clips yielded to his dexterity, and the expensive lace garment came loose. With a couple of gentle strokes, the shoulder straps came away and it fell down onto the floor.

"Oh, my god," Johnny gasped as he witnessed her bare breasts hovering before his eyes. "Oh, Chantal, you're... I just... I can't put it into words, but you're..."

"Tu aime mes siens, oui?" Chantal chuckled, an impish laugh that briefly caused her breasts to wobble slightly.

The look of confusion Johnny returned her indicated he hadn't understood, so she repeated herself in English.

"You like my breasts, Johnny?"

The truth was that the more aroused she became and the more rapidly her heart beat in her chest, the harder it became for her brain to enable her to speak in her second language.

"I don't just like them, Chantal," Johnny answered. "They're the most fabulous I've ever seen!"

It was the most honest and truthful he'd ever been towards a woman -- Chantal's breasts were everything he envisaged as the epitome of feminine perfection, precisely the right shape, size and colour. He found himself utterly dumbstruck as he gazed at them, perfectly symmetrical, beautifully rounded and crowned perfectly with prominent nipples surrounded by dark and wonderfully sensuous areolae. At that moment he thought that not even the greatest of sculptors could ever capture the true extent of her feminine beauty.

"You wish to help me out of my panties too, Johnny?" she asked him, breaking him out of his moment of reverie.

"Er, s-sure," he stammered in return.

He knelt before her, almost as if he was in reverence towards a sacred shrine, and placed his hands on the waistband of her delicately feminine underwear. He slipped his fingers into them and slowly, gently, eased them down off her broad hips until the force of gravity took over. Johnny felt his heart racing in his chest as Chantal's most sacred inner sanctum was revealed to his eyes for the very first time. Her pudenda was the most arresting and sensual thing he'd ever seen, and the very opposite to Sophia Verbier's untamed pubic jungle. Her outer lips were perfectly smooth and symmetrical, without even so much as a single hair and without any protuberance from her inner lips. Just a neat, small and perfectly smooth cleft. The pressure he felt in his underwear at the mere sight of it was positively straining for release.

"So? What do you think, Johnny?" she asked him as he rose to his feet.

"What do I think?" he repeated, as much for his own benefit as anything else. "I literally can't think right now, Chantal. You're just... the most... beautiful woman, hell, the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

She smiled, and for a few moments she savoured the feeling of being completely naked in his almost fully clothed presence. Rather than feeling exposed or vulnerable, she felt a sense of empowerment and confidence - a far cry from how she'd been as an awkward teenager.

As a young girl, Chantal had always been teased at school for being "rondelette" due to her rather pudgy, though by no means obese appearance. During her adolescence the teasing became worse, and she dreaded having to shower with the other girls after sports lessons and swimming. Eventually she reached a point in her life, a fork in the road, where one path could easily have led her down a path towards eating disorders and gradual self-destruction. The other path led to something she'd always dreamed of - working in the fashion industry. She knew that if she wanted that dream job, she would have to knuckle down and get herself in better shape, both physically and mentally, and after three years of careful dieting, counselling, exercise and studying, she found herself in a much better place emotionally and with a body that she was truly happy in. She'd landed a job as a personal shopper in one of Paris's best-known department stores, and a small apartment in a pleasant suburb of the city. It wasn't much, but for the first time in her life she was happy and determined to succeed.

The only real thing missing from her life was a man to share it with, but she was far from alone in her rather lonely predicament. With a ratio of five women to every one adult male, living a solitary and involuntarily celibate life was considered more or less as the norm for women like her. Once a month however, usually just after payday, she and a couple of her work colleagues would visit their local Mascularium to break their celibacy, where Pascal, her favourite "masseur" would help to sate her sexual frustrations - and relieve her bank account of at least a couple of hundred Euros for the privilege. An hour in his company once a month was all she could afford on her salary, but that all changed once she got her first job as a personal stylist for one of France's most popular singers, Marienne LePlage.

During her eight months working for the pop star during her European tour, and the whirlwind life on the road that went with it, there had been no shortage of keen young male groupies, and opportunities for sex were plentiful. But it was also a very shallow existence, and the sex, though at the time enjoyable, ultimately felt hollow and unfulfilling afterwards.

When the opportunity to work for Sophia Verbier came up, she grasped the opportunity with both hands, and for the first eighteen months or so she had loved being a part of the media tycoon's travelling entourage and the glamorous globetrotting lifestyle that went with it. But as time went on she became more and more aware of the way her employer treated young men like a commodity to be used for her own sexual gratification and thrown away like yesterday's newspapers, she grew disillusioned at first before becoming gradually more and more disgusted by her. That morning, as Verbier had boastfully shown off Johnny's naked body as he slept in her bed after spending the night using him, had been the straw that broke the camel's back. Enough was enough, she was done working for such an amoral bitch - and with luck, she would go out with a parting gift of a slew of #MeToo allegations that would hopefully tarnish her boss's reputation irreparably.

She never truly believed that there was such a thing as love at first sight, but from the moment she first laid eyes on Johnny as she disembarked from the plane at Biggin Hill, she knew that it was a very real phenomenon indeed. Seeing him naked, even though she disapproved of her employer's actions in showing him off with no regard for his dignity and privacy, had only made her even more certain that she was hopelessly in love with him. And joy of joys, it seemed as though her feelings for him were echoed by his feelings for her.

With that thought in her mind, she resumed slowly undressing him. He smiled benignly at her as she helped him out of the clothes she'd earlier helped him into. With his black dinner jacket off and his white shirt unbuttoned, she gently stroked her hand over the tautly muscular topology of his bare chest. He was no bodybuilder, but nevertheless she found herself enjoying his masculine torso. His pectorals were pleasingly proportioned and his navel and flat belly were beautiful in her eyes, but best of all were his small but quintessentially masculine nipples that stood out proudly from his chest and practically begged to be licked and kissed. Which was exactly what she soon found herself doing.

"Ooh-h-h, that feels nice, Chantal," Johnny sighed as she kissed his left nipple whilst her fingers tweaked his right.

At the same time as her right hand paid attention to his nipple, her left hand was busily unbuckling his belt and determinedly unfastening his trousers. Johnny sighed appreciatively as he felt Chantal's hand delving into his pants and softly take hold of his straining malehood. Chantal smiled in response as she revelled in the sensation of the silky soft skin of his penis in the palm of her hand, and marvelled at how hard the erection she had given him had become.

Johnny's trousers, like Chantal's dress before it, slipped off his hips and down to his ankles once gravity took over. And shortly after, his boxer briefs followed leaving him all but naked save for his open shirt and the pendant his grandmother had given him. They continued to kiss with passionate abandon, gradually working their way towards the bed, and eventually they both toppled over and fell upon the soft mattress together, causing them both to erupt into a sudden burst of laughter.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Johnny?" Chantal asked him nervously as she continued to stroke his firmly engorged manhood. "After last night with that fat bitch, I can understand if you rather we did not."

"It's okay, Chantal," he assured her, looking her in the eye. "I want this. In fact, I've never wanted it more than I do right now!"

Chantal smiled, gave his penis a firm squeeze, and then plastered him with kisses. They writhed passionately on the bed for some time, gradually ramping up the urgency and intensity, and building up towards the moment when they would be joined together in euphoric union. Johnny was only too happy to allow Chantal to mount him, and as he laid back on the soft and very expensive sheets, with his head resting on the equally expensive and equally soft pillows, he gazed up at her naked body and sighed in admiration of her beauty. But Chantal did not stay in position for long - she abruptly leaned across towards the bedside table and opened the drawer.

"Do you mind if we use one of these?" she asked him tentatively as she took out a box of condoms. "Ma Mére always told me to take precautions."

Despite the fact that their use as a contraceptive had been all but abandoned in an age where almost all men were rendered infertile by the Anderson-Swift's virus, male condoms still provided protection against sexually transmitted infections, and so were still considered as vital when it came to practicing safe sex. Johnny nodded his consent, pleased that unlike Verbier the night before, Chantal was prepared to do the responsible thing by him.

Chantal grinned, and took one of the foil packets out of the box. Johnny looked up at her as she tore it open and took out the condom. It was a bright green colour, and his nostrils detected an aroma of peppermint as she placed its teated end over the tip of his penis. Chantal returned his gaze with a smile as she rolled the gossamer thin sheath of green latex over his erection, making sure that there was no trapped air in it the way she had been taught to at school. With the condom successfully applied, Chantal took a moment to regard the sight of Johnny's now lurid green appendage. She couldn't help but find the sight of it rather amusing.

"What's so funny?" he asked her, noticing her sudden fit of giggling.

"Your penis - it looks like un concombre in this condom," she answered him with a broad grin. "I'm afraid I do not know the English word for it."

Johnny looked down at himself, and pondered for a moment what on earth his penis could possibly resemble as it gently pulsated within its green second skin.

"Animal, mineral or vegetable?" he asked her with a lopsided grin.

"Definitely vegetable," Chantal replied. "I think it is something you English like to eat in the posh sandwiches with the afternoon tea, and in the glass of Pimms in the summer."

"Oh, a cucumber!" Johnny answered, and then roared with laughter. "You think my dick looks like a cucumber in this thing? That's absolutely hilarious!"

Chantal, utterly charmed by his laughter and the way it made his body shake beneath her, couldn't help but be drawn in, and for a few moments they both savoured the hilarity of it.

"You ready to do this?" she asked him once they managed to collect themselves. "Are you ready to make love with me?"

"Take me, Chantal," Johnny answered her. "I'm all yours!"

She smiled once more, and picked up his green ensheathed erection and held it upright. She shuffled forward and raised herself up on her knees and guided his tip to her entrance. They both gasped and sighed as she lowered herself down onto him, and for the very first time they were physically joined.

"Ohh, Johnny," Chantal murmured softly. "You feel wonderful inside me."

"And it feels wonderful to be inside you, Chantal," he replied sincerely as he placed his hands on her hips with his fingers curling around the softness of her bare behind. "This is absolutely mental," he went on. "Like, we've barely known each other a day, and now here we are having sex."

"It is a good thing though, oui?" she ventured.

"It is a wonderful thing, Chantal," he assured her.

And on his words of affirmation their lovemaking began in earnest. It started rather gently at first, as they both became accustomed to each other, before gradually and inexorably working each other towards an ultimate zenith. Their hands roamed the sensual topography of each other's naked bodies, her fingertips softly grazing over his chest and his nipples whilst his roamed over her supple bottom, his fingers delving into the cleft between her cheeks. As the minutes ticked by Chantal began bucking her hips with increasing fervour, literally riding him like her own personal steed. Johnny answered by thrusting his hips upwards to meet with her downward lunges, driving him deeper inside her with every thrust. Eager for Chantal not to be too far behind him, Johnny reached between her legs and located her clitoris. As he began to finger the sensitive little nub she let out a sharp gasp.

"Oh, Johnny! Tu as trouvé mon clitoris, c'est vraiment merveilleux!"

His tweaking of her most sensitive spot definitely had the desired effect, and pretty soon they were both panting and gasping as they neared their climaxes, and it was only a matter of time before their lovemaking resolved itself in a shared eruption of orgasmic euphoria.

"Viens en moi, Johnny!" Chantal urged him in her native tongue as the surge of hormones in her bloodstream rendered her temporarily unable to speak in English. "Viens en moi! Remplis-moi de ta semence!"

He had no idea what her words meant, but the gasping tone of her voice meant that he didn't need to understand - the implication was clear, she wanted him to come in her. And he was only too happy to oblige. Together they made a combined sprint to the finish line, and the room echoed to the sound of skin slapping against skin, French and English, feminine and masculine, a sexual entente cordiale as they approached the point of no return.

Johnny felt the fire of imminent release suddenly welling up deep inside him, and he knew that it would be a matter of seconds before he erupted inside her. He wanted to delay his release for as long as he possibly could, desperate for her to reach her own climax at the same time. He frantically fingered her clitoris as he gnashed his teeth and tensed every muscle to try and stave off his climax for just a few more vital seconds, but it was all in vain for as soon as he was on the brink of the point of no return there was nothing more he could do.

But, just as he was about to resign himself to not being able to last any longer before the inevitable happened, Chantal suddenly began to shriek and cry out garbled words in French. Though the language was unfamiliar, Johnny knew the sound of a woman in a state of orgasmic enrapture when he heard it. He grinned with the knowledge that he'd made her come, and took it as a signal that he had performed well for her, and that they were fully in tune with each other. As if on cue, the domino effect of male sexual response took over and he erupted.