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It's always nice when a client finds his partner so wonderful that he wants to give her anything she wants for her birthday. In this tale, she gets a fancy French import -- oooh la la!
"Birthday Suit" was first published in the short story collection WICKED WORDS 9 . Copyright © Florence Hoard and Sage Vivant, Black Lace, 2004.
Birthday Suit (Naughty, 5,000 words)
He checked into the resort at Mystic Beach just as the chaises began getting scarce, about 9:00 am. Already, the sun asserted itself on the horizon, warning the bronzed bodies what was in store for them.
Nude beaches were not new to him. His family spent their summers at Cap D'Agde, where he matured among naked bodies of all shapes, sizes, ages and muscle tone. He was grateful for the early exposure for it enabled him to grow up with no inhibitions about his own body and no fears about women's.
He slipped out of his clothing quickly and headed for the bright expanse of sand. Even at 50, his six-foot frame and seven inch penis turned heads. He kept himself firm and tan, and knew that his lustrous, full head of dark brown hair didn't hurt, either.
He took the first available lounge, nodding to the man next to him. "Bonjour," he said politely.
"Hi, there," the older man said. "I'm Bill."
"Jacques," he replied, leaning toward the man to extend his hand. "Enchante."
The older man's pubic hair had been shaved, revealing a smooth groin and sleek balls. His cock was an average size and certainly seemed to loll happily in the warm sunshine. The French would have called Bill sympathique. Basically, a nice guy.
Jacques settled into his lounge, enjoying the warmth from the sky as it soothed his grateful body. He wore darker sunglasses than Bill — no eye contact was made between the men but an easy silence transcended as Jacques stretched his long legs out before him. He felt Bill's eyes assess his soft but sizeable package and smiled to himself. Men never ceased to find the comparison of their genitals a highly engaging activity.
He let him look, completely unthreatened by the man's gaze. He was accustomed to being watched but spent little time watching others. Why watch when there was so much to do?
"You're here with French Telecom, I guess," Bill ventured.
"Yes. French Telecom. Just for today," Jacques replied without turning to his neighbor.
"Good, good. What studio are you in?"
Americans. So inquisitive. "Fourteen," he said.
"Oh! Here's comes my wife."
Jacques glanced in the same direction as Bill and one eyebrow shot up involuntarily. Since Jacques was an adolescent, his eyebrows usually went up just before his cock did. He sometimes wondered if they didn't actually cue it somehow.
The woman appeared to be considerably younger than her husband; Jacques guessed around 50. Her body, a study in controlled voluptuousness, instantly triggered the circuitry between his legs. Her skin dripped with salt water and glowed with health.
"The water is fantastic!" She exclaimed, eyes ablaze with life. Her breasts were full and remarkably high, with pretty pink nipples that reveled in their freedom. She looked ripe and succulent, as if she'd ooze sweetness if he bit into her. And he did want to bite into her.
"You look very refreshed," he heard himself say.
His words forced her to look at him and as she did, Bill stepped in with introductions.
"Lillian, this is Jacques. He's with French Telecom, working on that project near the aqueduct. Jacques, my wife, Lillian."
Now her eyes danced. She did not hesitate to take his outstretched hand. Her grip communicated as much as her eyes. This was not a shy woman.
"Hello," she said. "And yes, I am refreshed." A sly smile crept across her face. No matter what this woman said, it would sound sexual — and he liked that very much.
A subtle breeze swirled itself around his stirring cock, as if to announce his imminent erection. His sense of decorum would not allow him to get hard for a woman in front of her husband so he abruptly but politely got to his feet.
"I think I'll enjoy some of that refreshment myself," he explained, and headed quickly toward the sparkling waves.
He'd seen her linger on his swelling cock. She probably knew that his escape to the ocean was an excuse to hide his arousal but what of it? If there was one thing he'd learned about women, they liked a long, slow flirtation. She saw what he had. Now he had to make her wait for it.
As he floated in the cool water, he imagined how her eager pussy had already begun to cream with anticipation. She'd be talking to Bill right now but her cunt would be thinking about being fed by this mysterious, foreign stranger. He had to confess that he liked the waiting, too. The delayed gratification that resulted in rock hard cock and drenched pussy, the prolonged explosion of fantasy into reality. With the right woman, the process was unforgettable. Older women knew how to pace themselves without holding back passion. As he swam, his penis thickened with every stroke. When he was ready to come out, he forced himself to wait a little longer, secure in the knowledge that the more time he took to return to his lounge chair, the hungrier she'd be. Few things turned him on more than a hungry woman.
Finally, he emerged from the sea with his semi-erection leading the way. As he walked toward the couple, his rod swayed, lightly slapping one thigh and then the other. The subtle friction merely served to harden him further. By the time he was close enough to Bill and Lillian for them to recognize him, his seven inches of manhood had puffed up to eight.
Lillian didn't even pretend to look anywhere but his crotch. Bill looked on with bemusement and a thinly veiled awe. Jacques found himself developing a certain manly respect for the guy. There weren't many husbands, especially American ones, who would be secure enough in their masculinity to allow their wives to enjoy the sight of another man's goods, let alone what those goods could deliver.
Jacques prepared himself for some awkwardness. He was clearly hot for Lillian and Lillian hardly seemed opposed to the idea of him but there was the complication of her husband. Jacques decided to let Bill determine the course of the action.
"Welcome back, Jacques. I see the water is fine. Think I'll jump in for a bit myself." And he ambled away toward the shore.
"Your husband is a brave man," Jacques commented behind his dark glasses as he made himself comfortable in his lounge chair.
"Brave? Why? Are there sharks in the water?" She chuckled at her own wit.
"No, but there are a few here on the sand." He would have winked if it weren't for the glasses.
"Is that supposed to scare me?" Her smile was constant now. Their sexual swords had been drawn and the battle of innuendo begun.
He laughed. "When was the last time you were scared? I cannot picture it."
"It's rare," she confessed. While he'd been swimming, she repositioned her lounge so it sat at an angle, half facing the water, half facing him. As she opened her legs ever so slightly, he understood her motivation for the new arrangement. Like her husband, her privates were completely free of hair. Even without the gap that now existed between her thighs, the folds of her labia and the curves of her mons were obvious and more than a little beckoning. With her knees apart, the smaller, pink and pinched folds were on display. He looked but did not linger long enough to be accused of ogling, even though that's what she wanted him to do.
"Are you and your husband here for a while?"
"We spend a few weekends here every summer, and we also try to squeeze in a full week or more as time allows. How long are you here?" The question had none of the coy pseudo-innocence it might have had from a younger woman's lips. Her directness captivated him.
"I fly back to France tomorrow."
She grinned. "So much to do, so little time."
"C'est vrai." He grinned back, still under cover of his Polaroid lenses. He watched her search his face for clues that only his eyes could give.
"And yet you picked a good day to be here."
"Oh? I think any day seeing you would be a good day."
An uncertain breeze tousled Lillian's light brown hair slightly. The ocean was reflected in her eyes as she smiled with the right side of her mouth. She drew up her knees to her chin and hugged them, still keeping her smooth pussy lips in clear view — in fact, in better view, now that they were framed by her thighs.
"You know, most women say they don't trust charming men, but personally, I think they're fun. What I meant about this being a good day was that it's my birthday."
"Mais, non!"
"Mais oui!" She laughed. "Bill has promised me that anything goes today. Whatever I want." Her eyes penetrated him without wavering.
"And have you decided what you want?" He was hard now and let his erection speak for itself. It rose to signal her but she'd long ago established communication with it. Now she assessed it as if she knew that she was responsible for its growth.
"Yes, I think I have."
"Will your husband let you have it?"
"He said 'anything goes'," she repeated.
The juice between her legs sparkled on her swollen cunt. He knew she was close to dripping on her lounge chair and considered just reaching over to that moist little furnace to sample her. Instead, he stayed inscrutable behind his sunglasses. To what lengths might he get her to go by playing hard to get?
The specter of Bill, ghostlike moments ago, now became a more tangible threat as he walked toward them from the water. His slightly shrunken penis bobbed happily with every step and his eyes sparkled nearly as much as Lillian's.
"I think there's something special in the water here," he grinned as he toweled off the sea from his body.
"I was just telling Jacques that today is my birthday," Lillian smiled.
"Indeed it is!" Bill agreed as he dropped into his lounge chair.
"And I was also telling him that you said I could have anything I wanted today."
"As you can year round, my dear," he said, taking his wife's hand and giving it a squeeze.
"See? I told you." Lillian winked at Jacques.
"I never doubted you," Jacques chuckled. "I believe you also said you knew what you wanted." If she was going to flirt, he'd give her a challenge.
"Yes. I want Bill to oil me up, right here and now."
Sly woman.
"Well, that can be arranged," Bill said, getting up from his chair in search of the suntan oil. Meanwhile, Lillian lowered the back of her lounge and gracefully flipped over onto her front. Her beautiful ass curved deliciously upward, full and wantonly exposed for both men to view.
Bill stood over her now, looking mischievously from his wife to the Frenchman. He winked at Jacques conspiratorially. "You know you really want your front oiled, Lillian. I know you."
As she laughed, the muscles in her back contracted and relaxed with an ease Jacques found compelling. "Humor me. Start with my back and we'll work our way to the front."
Bill held the bottle several inches from the middle of her shoulder blades and carefully poured a thin stream of oil along her spine. The liquid snaked along her skin like an eager tongue, lingering in some spots, gliding over others, happy to be everywhere. She groaned when Bill's hands touched her skin.
"Oh, that's good," she moaned. She had turned her face away from Jacques so he couldn't see it.
What a fascinating connection she and Bill clearly had. As his hands massaged oil in and worked tension out, a brief silence transcended that felt like theirs and theirs alone. Jacques dared not speak as Bill's palms communicated with Lillian's skin. The air around the three of them thickened with mystical overtones. Then he looked down and realized that the only real thickness was between his legs. He was hard now, harder than he'd been in weeks. So hard he could think of nothing pithy to say to break the awkward moment.
She turned her face towards Jacques but kept her eyes closed. "Bill, honey, my gluteus maximus is aching. Work a little magic on me, would you? You know what to do."
Bill positioned his hands where cheek melded with thigh and pushed upward with slow, sensual stealth. Her fleshy mounds yielded only slightly to his touch — they stayed firm but pliant enough for Jacques to wish passionately that he could trade places with Bill.
Lillian separated her legs slightly and opened her eyes. Looking directly at Jacques, she spoke to her husband. "Some oil has snuck in between my legs. I've always heard that oil and feminine juices don't mix well. You should probably lick it up," she advised, smiling.
Jacques stared as Bill bent to place his face between her ass cheeks. Dutifully, he licked.
Jacques looked around, to be sure that nobody objected to their little display. In France, this would have been no problem, but he knew Americans were not known for their sexual tolerance. Fucking was great for them but sinful for others. At the moment, none of the other guests seemed to notice.
"I hope you don't mind," Lillian teased. She'd drawn up her arms so they framed her face, exposing the sides of her ample titties. "We've tried using towels but nothing seems to clean like Bill's tongue," she giggled.
"I don't mind at all," Jacques commented. "I'm a little concerned for your neighbors, though. They may want to join in!"
"But I only have eyes for you," she winked.
Bill continued to lap away at her butt cleavage. Jacques waited to see what she'd do next.
"What do you think, Jacques? Am I done on this side?"
"Only you know your own body, madame."
"I know my body quite well, monsieur. I've gotten to know it intimately over the years, in fact. Bill knows my body pretty well, too, but that doesn't mean someone new couldn't teach me a few new things about it." She turned over on her back as Bill watched, grinning. The oil greased her movements.
"I'm harder to handle when I'm slippery," she added. The delight on her face at catching a glimpse of Jacques' erection was obvious. "And I see you're just harder when I'm slippery." Smiling at her husband, she directed her next comments to him. "Work my front, honey pie. Show the man how it's done."
Bill was at full tilt, as well, Jacques noted as the man repositioned himself to fulfill his wife's latest request. The man's smooth balls gleamed from being so taut as well as covered with oil. Jacques had been so enthralled with watching Lillian, he hadn't noticed that Bill had indulged himself in a bit of the oil, too. He bent over his wife now, cock and balls hovering near her face as he leaned forward to focus attention on her breasts. Jacques said nothing as he watched Lillian's beautifully tan and firm breasts manhandled by Bill. Squeezed, kneaded, grabbed, and manhandled by Bill. Jacques made a conscious effort not to touch himself.
The oil gleamed seductively on her soft curves, beckoning to him. Bill had moved his ministrations to her shapely hips now. He stroked her lovingly from her thighs to her pretty bald beaver and the couple seemed unaware of anyone but each other. Could Lillian so easily bounce between flirting with him and enjoying her husband? Of course she could — that's what made her so appealing.
As Bill massaged her toes and the mood lightened enough to allow conversation again, Bill announced he was going to Pedro's to pick up some ribs for lunch.
"All right, sweetheart. I think I'll just go back to the studio and shower off some of this sand. You'll keep me company, won't you, Jacques?" She sat up in her lounge now, glistening with oil, her feet on the beach sand, legs together. If he didn't know better, he'd say she looked downright demure. "I'll open a bottle of wine if you stay here."
Jacques looked to Bill cautiously to discern the correct course of action. One had to tread so delicately in these matters?But Bill nodded enthusiastically, eyebrows raised as if to add an exclamation point to his encouragement. Leaving his wife alone with the Frenchman seemed part of his plan.
And so Jacques followed behind the voluptuous beauty as she led the way to the studio. She swung her ample hips with the carefree, lascivious air of a woman who knows she's transferred a man's brain directly into his penis. Her firm ass cheeks had become so much a part of his fantasies now that he could almost taste them.
She sauntered up to the outside shower at the back of the studio, wordlessly beginning her shower. He removed his sunglasses and set them down on the small table. Running her hands along the slope of her waist, her eyes met his in sexual challenge. She did not invite him to join her with words but her gaze lured him with unstoppable determination.
"May I join you?" He asked, mostly to be polite. His cock was doing the thinking for him now, so no matter what her response, he would have proceeded into the refreshing spray until he was close enough to touch her, just as he did now.
The cool water did nothing to squelch the sizzle between them. Her nipples, hard and pink under his wandering fingers, acted as barometers of her lust. When he kissed her mouth, her soft lips kissed him back. Suddenly, though, she stepped away from the shower, leaving him standing there alone.
"I just needed to rinse the sand off. I'll go get the wine now."
Her eyes sparkled and his erection bobbed with frustration. Rather than watch her distracting curves sashay into the studio, he shut his eyes and tried to get the water as cold as possible. There was no adjustment, though, and so he remained under a steady cascade of tepid water. He would play her game but he didn't like the idea that they only had as much time as it would take Bill to go to Pedro's. He wanted to enjoy Lillian now, rather than later, and wasn't sure whether Bill would take kindly to seeing his wife reamed by a visiting Frenchman. He did his best to summon up his Parisian laissez-faire attitude, vowing to leave things to fate, which had always served him well in the past.
The shower had no discernable effect on his raging hard-on, so he sat at the small round table near the shower and waited. Stroking himself as an interim measure occurred to him but he dismissed it as amateur, unsophisticated behavior. When his cock got friction, it would be from that beautiful woman's wet pussy.
"Here we are," sang Lillian as she emerged from the studio. A bottle of wine and two glasses sat on the small tray she carried. "I've been saving this bottle for a special occasion."
"I'm flattered you feel this is it," he smiled.
"I think my birthday qualifies as a special occasion, don't you?" She stared at him, eyes ignited with mischief. "What shall we drink to?" She asked as she poured the wine. Normally, he would have intervened — a woman should never pour when a man is there to do it for her — but she seemed to have things well under control. Her control.
"Well, madame, we could toast to Mystic Beach, birthdays, French Telecom, or the beauty of the feminine form. I have fond feelings for all of them."
"I'd like to drink to handsome men with incredibly large cocks. How do you say that in French?"
"Like this," he said, leaning forward and making contact with her mouth before she could protest. She was warm, soft, fiery in spirit.
Her free hand wandered downward between his legs, seeking out the smooth heat of his shaft. She looped her index finger around his girth and brought her thumb around to close the gap. And then she stroked. Long, slow, perfectly timed sweeps upward then down, stopping short of his mushroom head on the way up and traveling all the way down to his dark brown pubes. His body trembled.
He couldn't reach her pussy amidst the jumble of arms and wine glasses, so he put his glass down as he continued to gently tongue-wrestle with her. She emanated more heat when he tickled her shaved mons and by the time he burrowed between her thighs to access her moist sweetness, their tongues were practically down each others' throats.
She broke free of the kiss first. Not abruptly, but firmly nonetheless. "You know, in this country, a woman with a birthday gets to make requests all day."
"Is that true?"
"Oh yes," she whispered, smiling a crooked smile. "I ask you now to step inside so that you may ravish me."
He laughed in spite of himself. "Why do I get the distinct impression that I'm the one who will be ravished?"
"Scared?"
"Is this the erection of a frightened man?" He asked, directing both their attention to the rock hard enormity in his lap.
She stood, took him by the hand, and led him into the studio through the sliding glass doors. The bed loomed, a wide expanse of white among small, simple wooden furniture. Though the room looked much like his own, its appeal was double, nay triple of his.
Was it she who guided him on top of her or had he placed himself into that dominant position? Regardless, he now looked down on her as she laid on her back, expectant and ready.
His cock had a purpose, a driving purpose in fact, but his mind wanted to explore Lillian more slowly. He wanted to play this woman as a musician plays an instrument, caressing her body for optimum performance, coaxing heights of excellence from it that only pure appreciation could evoke.
He put his lips to one large nipple and licked reverently while he listened to her gasp. Her sounds encouraged him to slip his other hand into her steamy folds, fondling and stroking until her cream coated his fingers.
"Luscious, luscious woman," he mumbled between laps at her breast. He squeezed her gently, enjoying the fullness in his hands.
Her fire was unrestrained now and her coquettish side had disappeared. Only her womanly essence was with him in the room at this moment, surrendering to her desires and stoking his. She spread her legs wide for him and he immediately slipped one, then two, then three fingers into her dripping wet hole. As he slid his digits in and out of her, he frigged her clit with his thumb. He was surprised by how large it became at his touch, and how sensitive it was. She writhed with happiness and rocked her hips in tandem with his thrusts to send him deeper inside her.
Her hands were not idle. They'd found his pulsing cock and pumped it in exactly the right rhythm. He could always tell when a woman went through the motions of playing with cock versus those who thoroughly enjoyed doing so. Lillian was of the latter variety, as obsessed with stroking him as he was with stroking her. Her enjoyment of his equipment turned him on even more. He could actually feel her swelling under his fingers and gushing into his hand.
"I have another request," she whispered.
"Oui, madame. Quelque chose que vous voulez."
"What?"
"Whatever you want," he grinned. He was so lost in the moment, he'd retreated to his native language.
"I want you to fuck me. Slide that beautiful piece of meat inside me. I haven't been able to think about anything else since I saw you this morning."
"I'm afraid I cannot do that, madame."
Her eyes opened wide in guileless wonder. "Why not?"
"Because my desire to eat you is greater than your desire to be fucked."
Her worried face relaxed into a knowing smile. "Well, then, by all means, eat my pussy."
He kissed his way down her body, from breastbone to navel, then slowed his pace as he approached her hairless mound. Her hands went to his head, where she grabbed handfuls of his hair. Her scent hardened him more and made him slightly dizzy. He couldn't recall ever wanting a woman so badly.
She tasted of salt air and fresh breezes but also of rich, spicy femininity. As his tongue played at her engorged clit, her juices dripped into his mouth and he closed his eyes to keep from swooning. She spread herself wide for him and as she did, her labia parted to expose every glistening pink part of her. Her clit grew larger as he licked it.
Her entire body stiffened and arched as she pulled more urgently at his hair. When she came, her shouts filled the room. She undulated and bucked as he continued to lick her, push her over the edge of whatever precipice she called pleasure.
"Now!" She cried. "Fuck me now!"
His only thought now was to please her. With his cock past the point of containment, anyway, he mounted her and gasped at the heat that suddenly surrounded his steely rod. Not only was Lillian the juiciest woman he'd ever experienced, she was also the steamiest. Any hotter and he might have felt pain.
He could not postpone his release as he could with other women. Looking at her now, with her pretty face in a kind of possessed state of transcendence, and feeling her tight cunt pull and squeeze his cock as if to milk the come right out of him, he surrendered to her, shouting nearly as loudly as she as he filled her with thick, gooey fluid.
A slight movement in the corner of the room made him turn his head. The sight of Bill standing there, mouth agape, froze Jacques. Lillian, however, seemed undisturbed by his sudden and unannounced arrival.
"Hi, there," she smiled at her husband.
"Hi, yourself. You just couldn't wait, couldn't you?"
Jacques did not, could not, breathe. In his elevated state of arousal, perhaps he had used bad judgment. Perhaps he should have waited to see what Bill preferred. He'd tried to read him but maybe his lust clouded his judgment. He waited for Bill's next move, ready to apologize or flee, whichever seemed most expedient.
"No, baby, I couldn't wait. You saw the member on Jacques. Did you think I wouldn't want it as soon as I could get it?"
Bill smirked. "No, I knew you'd do this. It's what I hoped you'd do," he said, placing the bag of ribs on the coffee table. "Why would I get you a birthday present you wouldn't enjoy?"
Lillian looked from Bill to Jacques and back again. Jacques was relieved to have the plan exposed but wasn't sure how Lillian would react, now that she knew he'd been hired to please her.
"You mean you're a gigolo?"
"Well, not technically. A gigolo is more of a full-time job."
"Are you French, at least?"
"Oui, madame. Je suis Francais," he smiled. "But I am something else, as well."
"And what's that?"
"Very, very hot for you. You are an incredibly sexy woman. When Bill hired me, he said I should only do what felt right. Once I saw you, there was no question about what was going to feel right." He moved his hand to her still gushing pussy and stroked her swollen lips. She kissed his forehead.
Bill approached the bed, sturdy erection in hand. "I'd love to see Jacques fuck you from behind," he suggested.
"Mmmm, good idea," Lillian agreed. "And I can suck your cock while he rams me."
And so they assumed their positions. Lillian's cunt, a heady blend of scents from then and now, accepted Jacques' cock easily. The fact that he remained hard even after his orgasm of just minutes before was a testament to his rampant hunger for her. As he pumped her, he watched with fascination as her womanly ass cheeks jiggled provocatively. She even pushed up against him in time to his thrusts to force him deeper into her pussy. He found he could hold himself back somewhat more easily now that his first eruption had passed. So, he watched her suck off her husband.
What a gift she had for knowing what a penis needed! As he followed the movements of her tongue around Bill's grateful cock, that cock became his own. He imagined his own meat stuffed far down her throat as her tongue swirled around it, tickling the underside of his knob and stroking the sensitive patch right near his come hole. The longer he watched, the harder he got.
Just as he was ready to let another load go inside her hot cunt, the walls of her pussy clutched him. Bill's cock muffled her shouts but she didn't let that impair her enjoyment. She ground her ass wildly up and back toward Jacques and made Bill's cock completely disappear down her throat.
Bill signaled Jacques to pull out. Confused but mindful of his role, Jacques obeyed. Bill held his tumescent, nearly purple member in one hand and Jacques did the same.
"Roll over, Lillian. We want to give you something," Bill instructed.
Lillian turned over onto her back and the moment she did, both men sprayed her face and torso with thick ropes of jizz. She looked like a x-rated Jackson Pollack painting.
"Mmmm," she said, rubbing the streams of come into her skin. "That was fantastic. I may never bathe again," she laughed. Jacques couldn't resist helping her massage the organic fluid into her supple skin.
"Good sex always gives me an appetite," Bill commented. "Ribs anyone?"
Copyright © 2002 by Custom Erotica Source. All rights reserved.
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