Frank’s sudden death hit hard. I drove 400 kilometers to his Paris suburb funeral, crashing in a discreet hotel near the cemetery. Sleepless, memories of our wild nights flooded back—shared conquests, endless fucks. Morning came. Church empty save for a few colleagues. Shock: Frank married an Ukrainian, Irina, barely a month ago.
The hearse arrived. She emerged from the funeral car—blonde, veiled hat, silk gray blouse, tailored black suit hugging her curves. Black stilettos, sheer stockings. As her skirt hiked stepping out, I glimpsed bare thigh above a garter. My cock twitched. Magnificent.
The Privilege
Irina approached, Slavic accent thick. ‘Chris, Frank’s best friend.’ We entered the sparse service. Afterward, alone at the grave, she clutched my hand, tears smudging her veil. Her body pressed close—full breasts, rounded ass. Frank’s type: pure sex.
I led her to the town square’s upscale bistro. Leather banquettes, crystal glasses. Vodka shots burned smooth. She opened up: whirlwind romance in Odessa, Crimea beaches, quick wedding to escape Ukraine. Frank bragged about me, our womanizing. Her gray eyes sparkled. My hand on hers. Kissed her cheek, lips brushing.
‘I’ll care for you.’ She nodded. Checked her Paris hotel, loaded bags into my sleek Mercedes—supple leather seats cradling us. Highway blurred. She dozed, veil enigmatic. Couldn’t resist. Hand on her thigh, skirt edging up. She leaned in, head on my shoulder. Fingers traced garter, naked skin hot. She parted legs.
Panties aside, her blonde bush wet. Circled her clit. She freed her tits—firm, nipples hard. Came shuddering, thighs clamping my hand. Her turn: unzipped me, ‘Bigger than Frank’s.’ Sucked deep, tongue swirling. Nearly crashed. Pulled off at toll, her nails teasing my glans.
The Excess
My riverside mill glowed in twilight—restored stone, manicured grounds, exclusive haven. Unloaded bags. Fireplace roared, thick Persian rug underfoot. She dropped to knees, veil framing her slutty gaze. Devoured my balls, ass cheeks spread. Exploded down her throat. She swallowed greedily.
The firelight danced on cognac snifters, amber liquid velvet on tongues. Silk sheets awaited upstairs, but we stayed grounded in luxury.
Undressed her slow: kept stockings, garters taut. Ate her pussy—juices flooding to thighs. She bucked, orgasming on my tongue. Four paws, ass high. Slammed her blonde cunt balls-deep. She moaned in Russian, French. Switched to her tight anus—slick, welcoming. Alternated holes, her fingers on clit. Non-stop climaxes.
Pulled out. She jerked me, cum splattering her veil. Collapsed, spent.
Later, more cognac by flames. Fucked again—raw, endless. Dawn, entwined naked. Forgot my friend arriving. She walked in, stunned by Irina’s allure. Another tale begins.
