This post contains strong language (L) and a fantasy roleplay (F).
I awoke before the alarm and immediately noticed the absence of my wife. A note lay in her place which read, “Good morning, baby. I decided to get an early start on my shopping. You have coffee waiting. I love you!” I put the note back and went to the window. The morning light revealed a cloudless sky, and the rays of the sun painted a beautiful picture over the horizon. It was going to be a beautiful day.
The aroma of coffee permeated my senses and dissolved the remaining haze from my mind. I decided to have a quick shower before sipping the delicious nectar my wife had prepared. Finished, I stepped out, and with the towel still over my face, I heard the door open.
“Monsieur! Je suis desolé!” and the door clicked shut. The towel fell from my face. Huh? Monsieur?… Je suis desolé?… My cock was unsure, and my mind drew a blank, but both were definitely intrigued.
Dressed in shorts and a tee shirt, I made my way to the kitchen. Leaning against the counter was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. A white, lacy bow adorned her well-coifed hair, and her makeup was something out of a fashion magazine. Her top, if you could call it that, was a blend of black and white lace with puffy shoulders and a neckline that plunged to the bottom of her breasts, barely containing them with only one button. The alleged top left her midriff bare, and what passed for a skirt did not fully reach the bottom of her sheer panties. Thigh-high stockings adorned her legs, and her feet were barely wrapped in strappy, open-toe heels.
When I finally dragged my eyes back to her face, her lips were curled into a smirk and her eyes gleamed with mischief. With a heavy French accent, she said, “Monsieur, please take your seat.”
I sat at the table, but my cock wasn’t finished looking and broke free from the waistband of my shorts. She poured coffee and walked behind my chair. Her perfume and the feel of her breasts against my shoulder, as she placed the cup in front of me, were intoxicating. Then her heels clicked away. The coffee was getting cold because I couldn’t tear my eyes from the erotic vision fluttering around the kitchen. Her heels clicked in my direction and came to a stop beside me.
Her eyes drifted down and she gasped, “Monsieur! What is this?” clearly indicating my cock, who, by now, was drooling shamelessly.
“I must take care! Madame will not be pleased!”
My brain still couldn’t fully process what it was seeing, and I numbly assisted as she turned my chair and removed my shorts. She dropped to her knees and released that single button. Magnificent breasts spilled into my view. She scooted between my open legs and my head fell back when my cock slipped between her glossy lips. Holy shit. She continued for a few minutes but popped off suddenly, as if in alarm.
“Monsieur! This isn’t working! You must come with me!”
She grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the bedroom. Releasing my hand at the door, she ran to the bed. There, she got on her hands and knees after pulling her panties halfway down her thighs.
“Monsieur! Hurry! Faire l’amour!”
I didn’t know what that meant, but her position left little doubt. I stood behind her and rubbed her glorious ass.
“Monsieur! S’il vous plait!” The words were French, but the tone suggested she was ready.
I entered her slippery folds, grabbed her hips, and let my cock have the reigns.
“Oui! Oui!”, she said as my cock had his way with her pussy. She pulled forward suddenly and rolled to her back. “S’il vous plait! Please, Monsieur!”
I knew what she wanted, but I had needs too. Placing my hands on the back of her knees, I buried my tongue in her slippery hole. Her moans signaled approval, and I stayed there until my cock’s jealousy took over. I slid back into her, placed my hands beside her breasts, and began fucking her relentlessly. I wanted to hear this woman cum.
“Oui! Oui! Mon amour!” She raked her nails down my back and met my hips with hers on each thrust. She locked her eyes with mine. “Zut! Merde!” I could only assume she was cursing in French. It didn’t matter, the message was clear.
I felt her pussy squeeze, and she pulled my mouth to hers. She moaned into my mouth as she came, then my own orgasm hit. I buried myself completely and, with gritted teeth, emptied into her pussy. Post-orgasm panting is the same in any language, and she lovingly stroked my face and smiled. Her face changed suddenly, and she rolled me off her and sat up.
“Monsieur! The time!” And with that, she became a flurry of activity as she redressed and ran out of the room.
I heard keys rustle and the front door close. Hmmm. Somewhat confused, I stumbled back into the kitchen, redressed, and fell on the couch. A car door woke me up. Glancing at my phone, I realized I had dozed off. Keys jingled, the door opened, and my wife walked in singing with some groceries.
“Hey baby,” she said, and with a smile, she headed to the kitchen to drop off her purchases. Per her usual shopping attire, she was wearing shorts, a cute top, no makeup, and sandals. She headed in my direction still smiling and plopped down beside me.
“I missed you.”
“I missed you, too,” I told her.
“Let me show you how much,” she said, and slithered between my legs. She pulled down my shorts and wasted no time putting my cock in her mouth.
She looked up with mischief in her eyes and said, “Why does your cock taste like pussy?”
“The maid came over.”
Her infectious laughter filled the room, and she put her head back down. Wrapped in her delicious warmth, I looked towards the window. What a beautiful day.
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