Collapsed in the butter-soft leather armchair of my new suite in Château Fontvieille. Exhausted from the move. This 18th-century gem, gifted to the commune, now an exclusive haven for affluent retirees like me. Irregular grand room: four-poster king bed in alcove, mahogany desk with sleek computer nook, granite-barred kitchenette, central velvet salon under floor-to-ceiling windows. Balcony overlooks 100 hectares of private woods. Birds sing through open panes. Serenity wraps me.
Light scratch at door. ‘Yes?’ Tall brunette head peeks. Débardeur hugs firm curves, jeans cling to long legs. Arlette, 69, my neighbor. ‘Welcome to the south wing.’ We tutoyer instantly. Her husky voice vibrates low, sensual. Strong nose, boyish bob, piercing hazel eyes. Not beauty, but magnetic. Offers dinner with petite Anne-Marie. I counter with leftover vintage champagne.
The Privilege
Then, casual as birdsong: ‘Want a little blowjob to perk you up?’ Natural. No shock. Months without Jeannette’s touch. My shriveled cock doubts. But she kneels, parts my thighs. Unzips. Handles firm, gentle. Popaul stirs at 73. Artist: lips seal, tongue swirls glans, fingers cup balls. Pure volupté. Hands on her hot scalp—her migraine vanishes. My gift. She dives deeper. ‘Coming!’ Gush weak but sweet. She savors, licks clean. Laughs deep.
Half-hour later, her place. Flutes gleam. Veggie nibbles: crisp radish snap, carrot crunch. Champagne bubbles burst tart on tongue. Toasts flow. Stories pour. My Jeannette, AVC seven months back. Their hands grip mine. Compassion real. Arlette’s train-driver Jacques, dead young. Expert fellatrice from lonely nights. Anne-Marie, tipsy, frigs herself under skirt. Giggles. Pizza slice steams. Arlette feeds her like child. Tender.
The Excess
Morning. Unpack rare books on oak shelves. Midday communal feast in vaulted refectory. Savory plates, chef’s touch. Gossip swirls gentle. Siesta heat tempts. To Arlette: ‘Owe you cunnilingus.’ She grins.
Persiennes dim suite to cool twilight. I strip to boxers. She enters, presses close. Poivre scent, Marseille soap. Kiss neck, moustache tickles. Tongues duel slow, wet. Unhook bra. Palms heavy tits, nipples hard peaks. She begs: ‘Suck!’ Dive in. Bite, lick. She syncs moans. Strip jeans. Muscled legs, firm belly, sparse pubis. Trail licks up thighs, skirt vulva. Song joke breaks tension. Lick wide labia, salty flow. Tongue probes nymphae. Suck mini-cock clitoris. Finger-fuck velvet tunnel. She bucks, thighs clamp, squirt floods chin. Shudders fade. Cuddle sweat-slick.
She strokes my cock lazy. Shares postwoman tales: sucked gramps, saved suicides. Presses wet pussy on thigh. Whispers: ‘Fuck me now.’
