Quel age as-tu?

He felt her finger leave his asshole. She quickly slid her body down his and squatted over his cock. Positioning it expertly, she languorously descended, momentarily resting her body on his, then back up again. He placed his hands on her slim waist and caressed her full buttocks as she increased her pace. Her hand fell to her slippery slot. She began riding him with abandon, slamming her soft ass down against him...moaning now...mumbling unintelligibly in French...faster...harder...and then she screamed softly as the orgasm came over her...slowing her pace...her upper body collapsing over his legs. The posture caused her butt cheeks to separate lewdly. Her drenched pussy, still impaled on him, was in full view, her tightly wound brown muscle quivering in anticipation.

Extracting himself from under her, he positioned himself behind her on his knees, slipping his fingers inside her steamy slot. She rotated her full rear, fucking his fingers with her slippery cunt. He quickly replaced his fingers with his as-yet-unrelieved organ, penetrating her completely in a single thrust. One hand reached around to find her button as the other grasped her soft hip. His body was over the top of hers, his mouth able to kiss her neck, her shoulders, her back. For some time they fucked like that...slowly...tenderly...his hips moving as if having a mind of their own.

She rested her forearms on the bed, causing her ass to elevate to a more acute angle. He squatted behind her, then over her, entering her with an almost vertical stroke. He slapped her full ass playfully. She giggled. Her own hand again found her slot, alternately touching his cock with her fingers as it slid in and out. He looked down, watching her ass hole open and close slightly as he thrust into her. He removed one hand from her hip, his thumb finding her tightest entrance, remembering to lubricate it as she had done earlier.

His thumb moved easily inside the tight muscle, marveling at how it granted him entrance when it had seemed almost impossible a minute earlier. He felt his arousal building and consciously slowed his pace, gripping her hips tightly in his strong young hands.

"Don't move!" she commanded. "Stay like that...deep inside me...stay still...I'm almost...yesssss!" Her fingers combined with the fullness of his cock inside her had brought her another wave of pleasure.

"Now, Steven...just fuck me...fuck me hard and fast...cum so deep inside me...don't try to hold back...I need to be fucked. Your woman needs to be fucked hard! Fuck your woman, Steven...fuck her good...so good."

Even with permission to do so, Steve did not cum as soon as he had expected. The few moments during which he had remained motionless while Marie's talented fingers completed their own task had been like a reset button. When he finally came it was even more intense than the others; he felt several strong streams of cum leave his body and shoot deep inside Marie...his woman. He roared her name, driving into her again and again even after he was certain there was nothing left inside him and then the second small orgasm surprised him...made him laugh...left him totally exhausted and completely in awe.

***

Steve helped Marie move two days later on Saturday. For the two months that remained in the summer session, they could well have shared a single apartment since they spent every night together. At some point, he called his grandmother --- collect, of course. On the occasions when he had called on his own dime she had insisted he hang up and she would call him back or tell him to hang up and call collect.

He told her about Marie, indicating that she was a special friend and briefly recounting her situation. His grandmother owned a small business with another woman which was involved in planning dinners and parties for the socially prominent. She had many contacts within the restaurant industry. Marie had shown him her diploma from a top French cooking school and spoken of the places she had worked in Paris. He had helped her prepare a formal resume.

During the short break between summer session and the regular fall term, Marie and Steve took the train to New York. His grandmother lived alone in a small apartment; she arranged lodging for them in another small apartment nearby which was owned by a friend of hers who was away for a few weeks.

Steve's grandmother fell in love with Marie on the spot. She well knew that the woman was older than her only grandson by a decade and assumed that they were in fact lovers but it was no matter to her. She marveled at what a fine man he had turned into and the fact that he was mature beyond his years. He had inherited none of the bad traits of his parents---of that she was certain.

She had arranged a series of interviews for Marie with a handful of respected establishments which specialized in French cuisine. During Marie's absences she treated her grandson to some new clothing and several exceptional meals.

"Steven, I know something about the food business in this city. Marie has impeccable credentials. If her skills live up to her resume, she will doubtless have an offer very quickly---and a good one, I would expect. When she moves here, I will certainly look after her...help her find her way. What is in your future, young man?"

"I expect to graduate from college nine months early so it's back to the grind. Then---who knows? A job of course but I've no idea doing what."

"I can also help you at the appropriate time in that area. I have many solid business relationships here in the city."

"I love to visit you here but would hate to live here! It's just not me."

"And Marie?"

"Marie is my friend...my very best friend in the world...probably ever. But she should be here, doing what she loves and has trained to do...finding happiness again...starting her life again."

"And that life...Steven...where do you fit in that life?"

"Always as her friend. We've been very good for each other...we've brought each other happiness...we are both very different people for knowing each other over a painfully short couple of months."

"You are lovers, of course."

Steve should not have been surprised as his grandmother's perceptiveness nor her blunt candor.

"Yes...I should have known you had figured that out. She taught me how to love...make love for the very first time. I helped her to love again...enjoy love and making love again. I will always love her and believe that she will always love me. My Lord, marriage was never remotely in the cards! We're ten years apart in age. We are from very different worlds and have very different hopes and dreams. We had that discussion the day after the first time we...Marie brought it up over breakfast. She feared that I would become infatuated with her---think that I was in love with her and that we should stay together. She wanted to end it right then and there.

"Actually, looking back that could have happened, I suppose---but it didn't. Because we wouldn't let it. We've both had our bumps in life---hers far more painful than mine. The upside of those life experiences is that neither of us are silly dreamers. We're both painfully grounded and practical. I'll miss her---more than just the sex. I'll truly miss her but if you really love someone, if they really are your friend---don't you owe them much more than what just makes you feel good?"

Her eyes filled with tears as she threw her arms around her only grandson. "I'm so damn proud of you. Your genetic makeup should have guaranteed that you'd be a complete screw-up. Your father never grew up---nor did your mother. Here you are at eighteen almost too grownup. You need to live a little, kid! You've paid your dues. Don't be in such a rush to get to the next milestone in life."

Marie received several offers from excellent establishments. Before she and Steven departed on the train, his grandmother had already found her a rent-controlled apartment owned by friends of hers who had recently decided to move to Florida permanently. As soon as they got home, Marie and Steve packed up her personal things and shipped them North.

Their last night together was emotional and even painful but also their most special night together. In the dim pre-dawn light, she spoke first.

"You'll come to visit?"

"Of course."

"I owe you so much, Steven---not just the job---so much more...I can never repay you."

"I owe you just as much or more. I have one thing I have to say---and you don't need to answer."

"What is it?"

"I love you...I always will. If you are ever in trouble...if you ever need anything---anything! All you have to do is ask."

Marie chuckled. "We were never going to say those three words, Steven. We never really talked about it but we knew those words were off limits." She kissed him softly. "I denied it and rejected it, Steven. In the end you have to know I wanted to say it...I felt it in my heart. Yes, I love you...and will until I die."

They kissed and held each other in the dawn glimmer.

"And now, Steven, we have time to fuck one last time before I have to get ready to catch my train. We made love more than once over the last few hours and it was so very sweet but that's not how we should part." Her hand dropped to his quickly inflating organ. "You have a magnificent cock, Steven; it fills ever inch of me so completely."

Marie rolled onto her knees and allowed her head to rest on the bed. She waved her perfect rump in front of her lover. "Fuck me the way you did that first night, hunched over me...driving into me...slamming your beautiful cock so deep...do me now, Steven...now while we have time!"

***

Her train left very early the next morning. They held on to each other as long as was humanly possible. The conductor had just made his final call.

"Friends forever, dear Steven?" He nodded wordlessly. "But no longer lovers, my sweet, dear boy. You will find a girl---a woman---and she will be a lucky woman indeed...someone closer to your own age...someone to love, marry and have babies with. I will never forget you...always love you." And then she turned and was gone.

As he watched the train leave the station, he had tears in his eyes. The fall term would begin in two more days. So much of his life over the summer had been devoted to Marie. He felt a pang of emptiness...loneliness. He felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned in response to the words---words in French.

"Excuse me, Monsieur? I'm sorry to bother you but I don't speak very good English and I heard you and that lady speaking French as she was getting on the train. I wonder if you could help me?"

He examined her quickly before responding. Slender, soft brown hair, huge brown eyes...absolutely beyond the definition of adorable.

"Quel age as-tu?"

"Pardon? Oh, yes. I am, ah, twenty-one years old. I am here to work at the University as a language instructor."

"Where are your bags?"

"I have only this small one."

"Do you have a place to live?"

"A boarding house but then I will need to find something more permanent very quickly."

"The lady who just left; her apartment is vacant. I'm sure the landlady would be happy to rent it to you."

"Really! That would be so wonderful! If you can give me directions, I will get a cab and..."

"I'm so sorry for my rudeness! I'm Steve or Steven if you like."

"Michelle. So pleased to meet you, Steven. Are you a student at the university?"

"Yes, a sophomore. Michelle, I would be happy to give you a ride. I live in an apartment on the same street. The lady looking after the apartment I mentioned is also my landlady."

"Are you sure it wouldn't be an inconvenience?"

"Not at all but I need to tell you, I don't have a car, I have a small motorcycle and in your skirt it might be inconvenient for you."

"A motorcycle? I had one at home---very small. More of a scooter, really."

"This isn't a scooter...you have to sit astride it---but it's a short ride." Steve said.

"I really have very little money. The cost of a taxi...I'm sure I can manage a little immodesty."

"Well, shall we go?" He said, picking up her bag.

"Steven, I need to also find some place to take classes; my spoken English is not so good."

"I can help you with that Michelle. French is my second language. I'm an American; English is my first language. I helped Marie---the lady you saw me with---improve her understanding of American idioms."

"I would never have guessed! Your accent is not American at all."

"That's a long story. Michelle, you look very young; I was surprised when you said you were twenty-one."

"One has to be twenty-one to receive a work visa and get a job teaching at the university, Steven. I assure you I am twenty-one. I have papers."

"I believe you, Michelle. You would have no reason to lie to me---would you?"

She paused as he was attaching her small case to the luggage rack. Her mouth formed into a pout that was more confused and uncertain than angry. It also made her even more adorable, if that was possible.

"How old are you, Steven?"

"I'm eighteen, Michelle."

"Eighteen? You seem so much older."

"You're not the first to make that observation."

"Are you married? You and the lady who boarded the train seemed very...intimate."

"I'm not married. And Marie and I are very dear friends but she is moving to New York to start a new job as a sous chef and won't be returning. You're not married, are you, Michelle?"

"Of course not! I'm far too young to be married. Look, Steven...this job is very important to me. In addition to a job, the university is going to allow me to take some classes toward my degree which I am told is very unusual since I am a woman but since I am an employee they are bending the rules. No one must know what I am going to tell you. I started college in France very young; my parents died in an accident. I had nothing; a relative helped me get papers that said I was older. I am not twenty-one; I'm eighteen...just like you. I would have been a sophomore also."

"Your secret is safe with me, Michelle. I promise. Shall we go?"

Michelle spoke the next time as they parked the bike in Mrs. Rogers' driveway.

"I feel so fortunate to have met someone who speaks French. I was terrified coming to a strange city and a new country, knowing no one and not speaking the language very well. I hope we can be friends, Steven."

"You can count on it, Michelle. You can count on it. Do you like to cook?"

"I like to but I am not very good in the kitchen. Why do you ask?"

"I've always loved cooking. Marie, my friend, taught me many things."

"Perhaps you could teach me?"

"I would enjoy that very much, Michelle."

This story is dedicated to the author's college language lab instructor...Marie. May her life have been filled with happiness and joy.

Edited by Techsan and crazysoundguy