The French Exchange Student and Me

You come to Australia for your final year of high school. You come to my school and we quickly become friends. I am a bit of an outsider, lonely. You are smart, funny and very pretty.

One day I ask, 'Do you want to come surfing with me?'

'I'd like that. I love the ocean.' My heart melts further.

To be continued.

Southern Australian Reunion

You arrive in southern Australia after a long flight. You hire a car and, using the map I sent you, drive two hours to a small seaside town. I have rented a cottage opposite the beach. When you arrive I am sitting on the front lawn in the sun. I am dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt.

We haven’t seen each other for five years. It is strange to start with. On the lawn we talk about the flight, the weather, other banal things. There is an immediate and great sexual tension. This reunion has been planned for eighteen months. Now it is here.

‘Let’s go inside,’ I say. ‘I have a gift for you.’

The cottage is old and rustic. Wooden floorboards and high ceilings. We go into the bedroom. A big soft bed is made up with white sheets. Pillows litter one end. A low, reclining cane chair is next to the bed. A bathroom with full-length mirror adjoins the room.

I hand you a small white bag. Inside you find a string of rough, natural pearls. ‘Here – let me.’ Standing behind you I drape the pearls around your neck. You watch in the dressing table mirror. ‘Just perfect,’ I say. You smile and look warmly at me in the mirror.

You turn around. There is an awkward moment when we don't quite know what to do. ‘Come on. Dinnertime. Australian seafood, I think,’ I say.

We walk about two kilometres to a small café. We talk more easily now. Dinner is simple seafood from the southern ocean and some Australian wine. Mangoes for dessert. It is early evening as we walk home. Now the conversation just does not flow. We are both thinking about what will come next.

Back at the cottage I say, ‘I have two more gifts. This one here and one in the bathroom.’ I hand you a small black package. You tip the contents onto the bed. It is a small black bikini. We smile together. ‘Would you mind?’ I ask. You turn, go into the bathroom and shut the door.

There you find the third gift – black high heel shoes with tiny black straps for your ankles. You wrap your body in the bikini – it is small but not uncomfortable. You step into the high heels and look at your reflection in the mirror. The shoes stretch and shape your legs. The string of the bikini is a stunning contrast to your pale skin. The pearls shine out like little suns.

You return to the bedroom. The light is off and candles bathe the room is a warm glow. I am sitting on the reclining cane chair near the bed. Champagne has arrived and I am drinking from a long, thin flute. You can smell lemon and seafood.

Playfully you do a small catwalk performance. It is very tongue-in-cheek. Slowly you take on a more serious air. You turn your back to me and lean your elbows against the wall.

I walk over and press my tummy against the small of your back. I firmly grip your wrists and whisper in you ear. ‘If you want me to tie you up, lay on the bed. I have some black velvet cords to tie your wrist.’ With this I squeeze your wrists harder. ‘But only if you want to …’

I release you and you walk to the bed. In one smooth motion you lie down and put both hands above your head. ‘Yes, tie me up,’ you say.

As I tie your hands firmly to the bed head I stand upright. The rough fabric of my jeans brushes against your shaved underarms as I tie one hand and then the other. I say, ‘Months ago – do you remember? You sent me an intense and desperate text message at 1 am saying you wanted me to tie you up. It was the most erotic thing I have ever, ever read. You said you were ashamed of this desire. But don’t be. It is beautiful and wild. Like you.’

You bite your lower lip. Suddenly you seem younger and more naïve. Your breathing comes in shallow sucks.

‘We will have a ‘safe’ word. If at any moment you want to stop just say “stop” and I will stop. This will only be pleasurable for me if I know you want it.’

You look a bit frightened. You have never been in this position before. You continue to bite your lower lip and nod ‘yes’ to me.

Tied up in your heels, bikini and pearls you are a picture of vulnerable beauty.

I remove a white towel from a silver patter. Oysters in their shells, lemon slices and coarse sea salt. I pick up a piece of lemon and with my other hand cradle your neck. I smear lemon over your lips. Next I sprinkle salt on your lips. And then I bring the oyster shell to your mouth.

‘Suck it,’ I say. You suck and the oyster slithers into your mouth taking lemon and salt with it. You swirl the mixture in your mouth for a moment, then swallow. I tilt your head further forward and offer you some champagne. You drink greedily. ‘More?’ You nod.

This ritual is repeated three more times: lemon, salt, oyster, champagne. Each time some champagne is spills down your chin. It pools in the crevice of your neck. I spread this over your chest. It tingles and fizzes on your skin.

With the last oyster you bite down hard on the white shell. The champagne has made you more open to possibilities. Your white teeth against the white shell are an enormous sexual thrill for me. I drag the sharp shell across your bottom lip, scratching you. You wince and struggle against your bonds. ‘Okay?’ I ask as I casually but thoughtful caress you thigh with one hand. You face melts and you nod your approval.

I stand and trail my fingers up and down your body. You are silent but give small gasps and moans as I linger on your breasts, neck and inner thighs. All I can say is, ‘This is so wonderful.’

I continue to caress your body with one hand. The other hand tugs down the zip of my jeans and pulls out my cock. The foreskin is pulled back and the head is purple and shines in the candlelight.

I walk up towards your head taking careful, measured steps. The bed is the perfect height. As my cock reaches your face your turn your head towards me, resting it on the your upper arm. You lick and moisten your lips as my cock moves closer. It slips between your lips in one smooth movement. I gently hold the back of your head with one hand.

My other hand reaches behind your neck and undoes the knot of the bikini top then sweeps the tiny piece of fabric down over your stomach. I gasp to see your breast for the first time tonight. I involuntarily thrust my cock just a little deeper into your mouth.

I build a steady, gentle rhythm now pushing my cock in and out of your mouth. Occasionally I pull it out altogether. You look up into my eyes and appear to plead to have it back in again. As it slides back in your eyes flutter shut, almost like you are being drugged.

The knots on the sides of your bikini bottom are pulled apart and this second tiny bit of fabric is swept down and away. My fingers trace a long, smooth arc from above your clitoris all the way down to your anus. The opening of the vagina is hot. A small rivulet of fluid has run down over your anus and is pooling on the white sheets. This warm moisture is used to lubricate your clitoris. I work it in deep, steady circles.

Abruptly you pull away from my cock and stare up at me. You utter just two words, ‘Fuck me.’

I remove my t-shirt, jeans and underwear and knee on the bed between your legs. My hands are hungry to touch your stomach, waist, thighs. As I touch every part I want I bring my cock closer to your sex. The head of my cock slips in. ‘This,’ I moan, ‘this should last forever.’ You arch your back as if to say this is what you want, too.

After only a few, deep smooth thrust you say breathlessly, ‘Beside me. Lie beside me and do it to me that way. I will cum like that.’ I quickly move to your right hand side and slide one arm under your neck. We position our legs and your buttocks so I can slip back in.

My movements are faster now. With my free hand I hold your body firmly so I can pump your body hard. It thrills me to know you might cum in this position. The tone and tempo of your moans changes – you sound more detached and intense now like you are being taken somewhere your rarely go. I am mesmerised by the smooth motion of your breasts as they dance in answer to my thrusts. This makes me fuck you harder. Your moans are growing louder and more desperate. This fuels more intense thrust by me. And on it goes …

You bellow. Shudder. Cry out something, some words I can’t get. This puts me over the edge. My cum shoots partly inside you, and partly onto your thighs and stomach. It is a slippery, slippery wonderful mess down there! And we do not care.

As I struggle to fill my lungs and the bliss of orgasm fills my arms, legs, chest I find the focus to untie one wrist and then the other. Your arms wrap themselves around my neck and shoulders. I do the same to you. We continue to gasp, breathing each other’s breath. I begin to cry, and so do you. In our sobs we lose ourselves, find each other and cling on for dear life.

Paris Reunion

I arrive in Paris late afternoon. Mid winter. Raining. I use the directions you sent me to find the hotel.

The hotel is old and my room is on the fourth floor. I lug my bags up the stairs and enter the room. You have chosen well - sitting room, bathroom and bedroom. Someone has lit an open fire. The room is warm. Rain lashes the windows.

I am exhausted after a long flight. I shower and my mind drifts to you. We have not seen each other for three years. But remembering you is not difficult. You are burnt into my mind like no other lover.

I dry myself and dress in a white bathrobe. I enter the sitting room and am surprised to find you there. You sit on a large leather armchair, legs crossed. You have come straight from your office.

You are dressing in pure Parisian chic. A dark blue woollen coat is a little damp from the rain outside. Under the coat you wear a white shirt. A simple, thin gold chain hangs around your neck. Your waist and thighs are draped in a jet-black skirt that stops just above your knees. Sheer black stockings cover your legs. And on your feet: classic black stilettos finish the image. These are tied to your ankles with impossibly thin leather straps.

I swallow hard as I take in the sight of you.

‘Get dressed,’ you say. ‘I have a special treat for you. Dinner. At my most favourite restaurant.’

I let the robe fall from my body and begin to dress. I feel vulnerable but exciting being naked in front of you. You sit silently, watching. I take my time. You say, ‘Your body is different to how I remember. More tone. I like it.’

I have bought special clothes for this reunion. Black shirt, dark blue pants and jacket, and black shoes. My underwear is also black. I dress slowly, looking over at your occasionally. You are still and watchful, like a cat. This is not what I expected from our first meeting.

You lead me down the stairs. Your shoes make a delicious click, click on the marble surface. It echoes through the long, deep stairwell.

In the taxi we exchange small talk while sitting apart.

At the restaurant you are in total control selecting the table, ordering the food and the wine. The meal is truly incredible. You explain each dish with patience and passion. When the dessert arrives I hear a shoe fall to the floor. Your foot finds my leg above my sock. ‘We will go now,’ you say.

In the taxi we are all over each other. Finally my hands can find you hair, your neck, your thighs. At the hotel we run up the stairs arriving breathless at the door. I fumble and drop the keys, twice.

Inside I sit on the armchair. You are about six steps away and begin to shed your clothes. First the jacket falls to the floor. Slowly you begin with your shirt. The top button is released to reveal for the first time your bra. A glimpse of black. The other buttons open. You turn your back to me. The shirt slips off your shoulders and flutters gently to the floor.

You are slim and toned. Even in the dim light your back muscles ripple and flex like waves on a windy pond. Your torso is dissected up and down by the sharp lines of your bra. The straps are so thin. You wear this underwear very tight on your lithe body. I shuddered and take a deep breath. ‘Beautiful,’ is all I can murmur.

You turn and walk towards me. Again the click, click of your heels. The wind gusts and the windows rattle in their frames. When you get to me you turn around and put both hands on your head. You look over your shoulder and smile at me for the first time since I arrived. I rest my hands on your thighs feeling the cool, smooth fabric of your skirt.

On the waistband of the skirt I find a zip buried within the fabric. As you sway gently I pull the zip down. The skirt is tight; as it opens the small of your back and then your buttocks are gradually exposed. The skirt opens like some exotic fruit, black on the outside with pale flesh on the inside. When the zip is fully down I pull the skirt to the floor.

Your stockings are held up my a delicate, black garter resting on your hips. The garter straps are thin and tight. The flesh of your thighs between the garter and your stockings shines like a pearl. You have no underwear to cover your buttocks.

You continue to sway, hands on head. My hands find the naked flesh of your inner thighs and I trace warm, smooth patterns. Your skin is impossibly soft, but the muscles are firm and toned. Again my eyes are drawn to your back. Your swaying causes these muscles to leap and undulate. Small valleys and mountains of flesh grow and die as you move your weight from side to side.

You lower yourself slowly down, putting a hand behind my neck to steady yourself. You straddle my thighs, throw your head back to rest on my shoulder. You whisper in my ear, ‘Touch me. I want to see you touching me in the mirror.’

Across the room is a full length mirror. Your body is there. The image is like a large art photo, all black of our clothing and the white of your skin. My hands explore your body and I watch in the mirror, mostly looking at your face as it responses to my touch.

I push you forward, firmly, so I can undo your bra. It is very tight – with the clasp undone it springs forward and slips off your shoulders and onto your lap. Now with both your hands behind my head you are totally revealed in all your wonderful glory. Your petite but perfectly shaped breast rise and fall with your breathing. I hold your torso just to feel your lungs fill and empty with air. Your hair – brown with the slightest and most delicious touches of silver – spills over your shoulders. The smell of your hair mixed with the dinner that lingers on your finger and breath is overwhelming. My breathing is shallow. I am dizzy now.

You stand to face me and kiss me. Your mouth is open, wet, warm. Our tongue meet and I am taken back three years to the last time we met. With one hand behind my head you press me against your mouth. The other hand unzips my pants. You reach in and find my cock. It throbs in your hands. You pull it and my ball out of my fly. While still kissing me you straddle my lap. And lower your sex to meet mine.

Your sex is like your mouth – open, wet and hot. I struggle for breath but you hold my mouth to your relentless kissing. With my entire cock inside you and my heart rate dropping you release my mouth and lean slowly back. Our foreheads meet. We cradle each other’s heads in our hands. We listen quietly to the rain and wind outside.