Balance

Balance

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Tags

Summary

Just thinking about happy times...

Tags

Summary

Just thinking about happy times...

Content

Submitted: May 23, 2016

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Content

Submitted: May 23, 2016

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I ran early. My warm-down walk passed the boulangerie as the baker, flour smeared and swarthily handsome smoked outside. It had started with a glance, next day a smile, I tried not to look red and sweaty as I passed. Unsuccessful. You’d guessed that.

He beckoned me over at the end of the week said just one word

“Balance” and handed me a bag.

“Merci beaucoup” I faltered in my crap halting French as I walked away, heart thumping.

A sweet smell rose gently from the warm bag. I sat on my unmade bed and found a pillow of pastry that dissolved in my mouth leaving the bitter trickle of dark melting chocolate. I worried instantly how I was going to tell him how much I’d enjoyed it, forgetting he’d spoken to me in English. My heart raced, not just from the run, the next day as I walked past. As I started to say something he raised a finger to his lips and opened his other hand revealing a small crescent dusted with icing sugar. He nodded as he slid it whole in my mouth.

 As I savoured the drip of frangipane mixing with pastry he leaned forward and wiped the sugar from the side of my mouth, my eyes were out on stalks and had turned to hearts. There was a neon sign over my head flashing I want you. I want you. I’d been there two months, hadn’t really bonded with anyone yet and was finding the lack of companionship hard. He was also fucking gorgeous.

Anyway long story short, after two more pastries and a coffee, by Wednesday I’d found out he spoke perfect English and he finished work around this time after baking through the night. By Thursday evening he was following me up the curving staircase to my flat. I’m sure it had been the height of grandeur in its day but by then it was mostly peeling paint on rusting art nouveau curves. We passed through TV noise on each floor and at my door he kissed me on the lips. Hard, it had left me wanting more. He’d made my knees wobble a little before the kiss and the anticipation he'd managed to build between my legs was at this stage almost explosive.

Before I take you in dear reader, let me just say the room’s a complete cliché- the French atelier I’d always imagined. I was only there for a year and the company was paying so I’d made it fulfil my French fantasy...  bare floorboards and an old iron bed with white bedding, sheer nets that blew at the open balcony doors. There was my other room piled high with crap on a clothing covered floor but I won’t take you in there.

Anyway I digress, sorry. He pushed me onto the bed and hooked my knickers slowly off. I can even remember the knickers. Black lace minis from M&S in a five pack. Isn’t it funny, try as I might I can’t remember his name though. He reached down to kiss my thigh as my knickers reached my ankles. I felt light headed, maybe from the wine it’d been a while since I’d had a drink or perhaps it was the company, or more likely the breathless déjà vu anticipation that I’d dreamt this before and I knew what was coming next.

His fingers that had been responsible for so many edible delights moved between my legs unhurried and deliberate. He looked down and smiled as he ran his other hand up and under my dress nudging it up and over my breasts and kneaded. God! Such firm fucking hands, I was pliant in his grip. I came, gasping and quivering pressed under his thumb. I would’ve done anything for him at this stage. And as he stopped stood and tugged off his t shirt at the end of my bed an Athena poster popped in my head. That dates this doesn’t it?

He slipped off shoes, slid out of trousers and then hopped on the bed and we fucked, easy uncomplicated sex, nothing kinky or strange just bloody great sex. And after we kissed and chatted then he slept. He woke, did it again and then I slept. When I woke he’d gone to work. It was a happy time but I can’t for the life of me remember his name. I’ll ask my sister, she’ll remember, when she came to stay the beautiful bastard fucked her well too. 


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