Weddings usually drain the soul, but this one at Véronique’s ceremony promised family drudgery. Wrong. The mairie rite blurred into church pomp amid scampering kids. My eyes snagged on her—blonde hair to shoulders, bare arms gleaming, legs endless under a blue skirt. Cécile, my cousin, unseen since we were teens. Blue eyes locked. Timid smile. ‘Salut Seb!’ She kissed my cheek, hand tugging mine to meet her brother.
We stuck through the exit, vin d’honneur in the château’s gilded halls. Crystal flutes chilled my palm, champagne fizzed sharp on tongue, bubbles bursting like preludes to sin. Marble floors echoed laughter from uncles, aunts, new cousins. I offered my ride. She slid into butter-soft leather passenger seat. Skirt hiked on thighs, hand resting high, not pulling down. Engine purred, her crossed legs flashed more skin. Forbidden fruit, but ripe.
The Privilege
Château sprawled in vast parklands, manicured lawns velvet under dusk. We claimed seats side-by-side at banquet. Candlelight danced on silverware, foie gras melted creamy. Legs brushed ‘innocently.’ Fingers grazed. Night fell. Glasses emptied. We slipped into the park, bench under ancient oaks. Talked loves, my gaze devouring her thighs. She shifted, teasing. Tickles turned caresses. I pinned her, hand under tee on flat belly. Skirt rode up. Fingers trailed thigh. Eyes met. Lips neared. Kids’ shrieks shattered it.
Back inside, thighs pressed under tablecloth. Hands intertwined. Coquettish glances. Another glass. We fled again, deeper into shadows. Hand in mine, warm, electric. Behind bushes, she sat cross-legged, skirt pooling. Legs parted invitation. Blue panty peeked. Heart hammered. She smiled. ‘I’ve wanted this since the car.’ Kiss exploded. Tongues tangled fierce.
Rolled in grass, skirt bunched waist. Thighs clamped my bulge, grinding slow. Neck nips, tee yanked. Beige bra cupped perfect tits. Unhooked. Firm, nipples peaked. Her hand freed my cock through pants, straining zipper. Bra off, she spun. Breasts in palms, neck kissed. She stroked me rigid.
The Excess
Flipped her back. Tongue swirled nipples, hard under flicks. Hands in hair, urged down. Skirt up, thighs framed blue dampness. Teased panty with hair, then tongue pressed fabric. She quivered, moaned. Fingers hooked soaked cotton aside. Shaved slit glistened. Dove in—laps slow, clit circled. Fingers plunged, curled. Gasps rose.
She shoved, mounted. Naked but skirt, tits in my grip. Humped my bulge frantic. Pants gone, black boxers tented. Hand caressed shaft. ‘Want it?’ Laugh. Boxers down. Tongue traced vein, sucked deep, hand pumping. Blonde head bobbed, heaven. Rolled side, fingers in her drip—two, thumb clit. She spasmed, gagged moans around cock.
Stopped her. Masturbated slow. ‘Let me.’ Sucked voracious, tongue gland swirl. Balls tightened. Pulled out—jets splashed face, hair. She milked, swallowed rest, licked clean. Cuddled, wet pussy on softening dick. Hardened quick. ‘Incredible.’ ‘Again?’ Wink. Laughs.
Kids neared. Dressed hasty, fled. She cleaned up, rejoined table. No suspicions. Under linen, fingers to her bush—trimmed patch. Pulled back, grinning. Whisper: ‘My city penthouse?’ Eyes sparkled. ‘Yes.’ Fire banked, but suite’s glass walls awaited—champagne chilled, silk sheets, skyline view. Secret sealed in luxury.
