April in Paris Read online

  Aroused, I moved my hand down onto my clit, reaching through my moist panties, jealous of the torrid fuck unfolding before me, watching Adrianna lost in that incomparably enchanting phase where preliminaries are ended, a hard cock has deliciously penetrated your pussy and all distractions vanish into the ether.

  Of course, I’d always adored watching a couple fuck, seeing a randy pair achieve carnal bliss. Moving closer, fingering my snatch more heatedly, the combined motion and sound of Adrianna’s fucking united with my own arousal, a delirious excitement mounting in my nipples and pussy. I had begun to remove my skirt incrementally, coordinating my movements with my soft footsteps in an effort to mask the sound of the unveiling; but as I neared the doorway, the sound of Adrianna’s voice maintained its steady chant, inspiring me to abandon all caution and pulled the entire garment downwards as I reclined against the opposite wall, remaining hidden behind a column, watching the spectacle unfold.

  “Eat my clit and make me come.” Adrianna willfully pushed her partner’s head backwards, clawing his scalp as she impelled it towards her pussy; with a heroic swallow, he sucked her massive, swollen clit into his mouth, his cheeks contracting as she compressed her thighs together and wrapped her legs around his neck, uttering an inarticulate “fu...fu...fu...fu” as he animatedly ate her, jacking off his cock simultaneously to sustain its granite rigidity, until she tensed her ass violently, forcing her pussy into his face before he pushed him backwards. Grunting, she announced, “Holy hell...here it comes...” her fervent tone suggesting that she was broadcasting a sacred event. And, indeed, a delicious exhibit followed: a geyser of fluid squirted from her pussy onto his incredulous face, a glorious stream striking his tongue as he belatedly extended it. The rest of her orgasmic spurt issued forth onto his chin in a magnificent, sloppy fusillade.

  “Mon dieu.” She collapsed forward, exhaling intrepidly. “You’ve made me come so fucking hard, darling...and earned the prize, a sacred right.” He stared, dumfounded, still cowed by her glistening pussy, pulsating and dripping wet. “The privilege of my nice Romanian lips sucking off your cock.” She lurched forward, gulping his erection as she aggressively jacked it off, her cheeks collapsing violently with the force of her inhalation; I could sense that he was aroused to an unsustainable pitch-- his ass tensed in immediate response, quivering for a moment before he ejaculated dramatically, his come erupting into Adrianna’s mouth. She swallowed valiantly before licking her lips politely. Seizing a towel, she first cleaned her lover’s cock and then her lips.

  “Yum, darling you taste like the sublimest caviar.” I withdrew from the door as she kissed his cheek, whispering post-coital niceties as I rapidly pulled up my skirt and returned to where I had been sitting, all evidence of my naughty observation gone.

  “Bună! Greetings, dear.” Adrianna entered the room, kissing me on both cheeks. She was wearing a white bathrobe, her hair wantonly disheveled and her glasses slovenly hanging from her aquiline nose. Her partner trailed behind her, wearing a matching robe. “Welcome to my home, which I trust you’ll enjoy.” She appeared to ignore her consort, and dismissively pointed to a chair at the back of the room, where he seated himself and languidly commenced to read a newspaper. “Thanks for coming, dear. I’m delighted we could talk.” She pointed to her partner. “That’s Dmitri, my occasional comrade. He’s from Albania and speaks almost no French. Conveniently, he does take simple commands in English.” He stirred briefly, and she turned to him and commanded, “Wait, dear! Not until I call you!”

  I sank into the couch, unsettled by the awkward scene. “Thank you very much for the invitation. You mentioned that you knew about Pierre and my manuscript?”

  “April! My dear, pleasure before commerce. First let us discuss other matters! I sense that you are trying to escape something, or change, or perhaps you are an explorer. A new explorer of the senses.” Adrianna had lowered her affected tone for a moment and grace note of solicitous compassion emerged. “I can’t explain it, but I detect something in you... a craving.”

  “You’re correct.” I swallowed timidly, choosing my words. “I do have a craving. That’s what I write about. In my manuscript, for instance.”

  “Of course, you speak of sex, darling.”

  I paused. “Yes. But you express it more boldly than I do.”

  “Come on, dear. Don’t be so polite and American.” She smiled. “I’ve heard about your dirty writings. You love sex.”

  I started. “Is that so? And who has reported this?”

  “Oh. News travels so easily on the Parisian winds. But let us return to the moment.” She glanced sideways at Dmitri. “Sex is not shadowy to me; it is nature itself. I embrace it. And April you have, as we say in Romania, viaţă sexualăf, a distinct appeal, but you do not know. Or perhaps you do.” Adrianna leaned forward, smiling as she brushed back her hair with her fingers before put her finger to her lips. “But I’ll speak no more. Would you like an amuse-bouche?”

  I stared in confusion. “A what?”

  “A little hors d’oeuvre.” She handed me a plate of small cakes. “It means literally, ‘mouth amuser’ in French. Or ‘oral amusement’ if you like. I prefer to swallow them whole. Yum!” She popped one suggestively in her mouth. “Let’s also have a little aperitif in tribute to new friendships. A little absinthe, perhaps? The Green Faerie is perfect for artists.”

  I laughed. “Sure. It was wicked enough for Oscar Wilde and Van Gogh.” Adrianna returned to the kitchen and opened a bottle of Espirit d’Edouard, preparing two drinks according to tradition, pouring the green liqueur into cut crystal glasses, placing a sugar cube on a perforated spoon as she poured cold water on the cube until the sugar dissolved into the now-occluded water and absinthe mixture. She handed me a glass.

  “Salut, darling.”

  “Merci.” I apprehensively stroked the back of my neck as I sipped my drink, its taste wintry and wraithlike with a trace of aberrant warmth, its powerful effects arriving almost immediately. “Damn, I’m already buzzed after two sips.”

  “Excellent, darling. You must disorient the senses to heighten the senses. Vrai?”

  “Well, if you say.” I anxiously drained my drink to halfway mark, noticing that I had become blissfully numb, my inhibitions vanishing like fairy dust into the ether. Glancing at the elegant walls of the room, I felt my psyche both heightened and uninhibited, deliciously carnal and emancipated, but also submerged in a mildly hallucinatory delirium. Reclining, my eyes half-closed, I recognized a Serge Gainsbourg song on Radio France.

  “Do you know this song, darling?” Adrianna intrepidly finished her drink and set down the empty glass.

  “Yes I know Gainsbourg, of course. Is it ‘Cha Cha Cha du Loup’?”

  “Yes! One of France’s great and naughty poets of the chanson! It’s a song about the Big Bad Wolf and Little Miss Riding Hood, and it is, naturally...very suggestive.” She snapped her fingers, glancing assertively backwards towards Dmitri, who stared listlessly at the paper. “Get over here, Big Bad Wolf.” Adrianna seized a corner of my red scarf, which she waved in his direction like a banner, impelling the robust Albanian to rise from his chair and approach us. “Dmitri, meet Little Miss Riding Hood.” I felt briefly self-conscious, then emboldened, suspecting an overture to a filthy proposal.

  Adrianna briskly opened Dmitri’s robe, revealing his cock, staggeringly semi-erect. “I have a tasty gift for you, darling. You must graciously accept, or I will take offense.”

  “Well, I’m not sure...” I paused briefly to consider the offer.

  She laughed, throwing her head back. “Come on! You write dirty stories. Now live dirty stories!”

  Admittedly, Dmitri’s delicious erection had a profound appeal and my filthy instincts prevailed: One never refused such a generous offer, I thought, relishing the idea of a complimentary cock handed to me like an hors d’ouvre. “Thank you, Adria
nna. I believe I’ll gladly indulge.”

  “De rien! Start with a little amuse-bouche, dear, your ‘oral amusement’!”

  “Yum.” I eagerly leaned towards Dmitri, senses pleasantly disoriented, my reticence demolished by the powerful drink, I grasped the base of his pulsing organ and eagerly took it in my mouth, the tremulous head nearly striking the back of my throat. I salivated liberally all over its length, licking its sublime contours in tribute, stunned that Adrianna’s companion could summon such a commanding erection after a recent, vigorous fuck.

  “You suck his cock so zealously, darling.” Adrianna grasped Dmitri’s shoulder as he tensed in response to my delirious blowjob. “Fabulous!” Fellating him vigorously, I imagined that I was inhaling his sublime tool into my throat, drawing him to the brink of orgasm; and indeed, I could feel a magnificent throb of arousal, the welcome signal that a man is on the delicious verge of explosion. Adrianna, ever observant, could perceive his reaction to my ardent sucking. “Look at her Dmitri, as her lips consume your cock,” she muttered as she ran her fingers through his hair and kissed his earlobe. “A cute little American is sucking you off. What a privilege, mon cheri.”

  But as his shaft shuddered more violently, I could taste a splendid foretaste of his load as a mischievous droplet of spunk shuddered into mouth. Grasping his taut scrotum, I looked into his eyes, rapt with arousal, and declared, “You’re not finished yet, sweetheart. I want to wrap my pussy around that beautiful cock.” He stared in bewilderment, and I wicked impishly. “And fucking come all over it.”

  “Little Red Riding Hood wants you to fuck her, Big Bad Wolf!” Adrianna laughed, her hair dispersing demonically. “Go on big Dmitri. Put your nice cock in that little American pussy.” As he hesitated, she slapped his ass, scattering a layer of perspiration summoned by my oral efforts. “Fuck her, you fool! Ah, men! Hopeless! You may pet them like a chinchilla, you may iron their trousers, or you may use them for a hearty screw. I always suggest the latter.” I removed my dress and rapaciously tore off my panties, severing them into two at the crotch, discarding them onto the carpet in a filthy gesture of invitation. Only my red scarf, now damp with perspiration, remained around my neck.

  I leaned back enraptured, staring at the ornate ceiling I could sense Dmitri’s cock slide effortlessly into my sodden pussy, grasping my waist as he commenced a rapid and mechanical barrage while I maniacally fingered my clit in a circular motion. I could feel the delicious sensation of his head plumbing my cunt as I murmured, “Fuck, that’s nice. Keep it going, man...” I could sense the shaft enter further, plummeting inwards.

  “Beautiful, April! He fits perfectly inside you!” Adrianna massaged Dmitri’s shoulders as he continued to fuck me, his ass expanding and contracting magnificently through the force of his efforts, a torrent of perspiration descending his shoulders as I continued to masturbate. Smiling, intently watching the motion of his cock, Adrianna smacked his ass in playful insistence as I glanced back at my hostess; I had never fucked a man with another woman watching, and I’ll confess that I loved being at the center of this shameless display. Adrianna grinned with demonic enthusiasm as she admired Dmitri’s vigorous cocksmanship and, for a moment, I felt a sisterly comfort, a mutual admiration of his virility as he penetrated my pussy.

  “Damn, Dmitri. You feel lovely. Shit.”

  But then my attentions were diverted-- his technique became slower, more measured, the length of his cock massaging my clit with unbearable slowness and deliberation. I could see my fluids dripping onto his shaft and wondered if my juices were mingling with the primal essence of Adrianna’s pussy; I imagined myself drawing power from her rabid sexuality as I started to thrust backwards in double time against Dmitri’s unhurried strokes. I could hear a muted, fleshy slap of my crotch against his abdomen as I fucked him.

  “Goddamn, maybe it is a big bad wolf cock” I glanced at Adrianna, laughing briefly in elation. “It feels immense...it’s great.” Dmitri made another deep invasion as I gritted my teeth, the shadow of an orgasm rising insistently.

  “Are you coming, dearest?” She kissed my cheek in sisterly solidarity, murmuring in filthy encouragement.

  I gasped. “Shit...yes. I think so.” I gritted my teeth, trying to forestall my rapidly mounting climax. “Wait.” I gently touched Dmitri’s abdomen. “Nice and slow.” He decelerated his strokes further on my command and I delighted in the measured abrasion of his cock against my inflamed clit. “Nice...and...slow.” My ass tensed instinctively, stirred by the delectable motion. “Oh shit, I’m getting closer.” Dmitri abruptly forced his cock fully into my snatch, and imagined the sublime organ rocketing through my throat. “Shit. Shit. Shit. I’m coming on your cock.”

  She leaned towards Dmitri’s ear. “Keep fucking, dearest one. Make Little Red Riding Hood come on your fucking cock.” And indeed, I came after she spoke the words, my cunt contracting fiercely around Dmitri’s cock, constricting it as he continued to thrust into me, the sensation enhanced inexplicably by the enigmatic powers of the absinthe; I imagined an oversize wolf penis plumbing my cunt, its breadth stroking my clit to heights of unearthly stimulus, and I unleashed an unearthly groan, the vociferation of Paris’ unholy erotic depths, grasping an adjacent statuette from a side table and unconsciously flinging to the floor, where it shattered as my orgasm reached its moment of sublimest intensity. I heard a deafening crash as I noticed the objet d’art plummet to the floor, but focused on the magnificent and naughty coitus at hand.

  I cried out, “Dmitri, wait, wait! Don’t come inside me-- I want to see you shoot your fabulous load.” I could feel his cock pulsing in my pussy, clearly on the perilous edge of ejaculation. But he dutifully withdrew in response to my request, grunting as his ass quaked, drenching my bare breasts with a barrage of come, then withdrawing submissively as the torrent of spunk dripped sublimely from my bosom onto the floor.

  “Ahh.” Adrianna smiled wistfully. “The male orgasm. The summit of beauty...”

  “Oh my god.” I nodded. “It is really is an inspiring vision. Wet, sloppy and gorgeous.” Trembling, recovering from his grand finale, I exhaled, noticing Dmitri’s come congealing onto Adrianna’s carpet, mixed with the remnants of the shattered statuette. “Sorry, Adrianna, I broke your statue. Shit - was it valuable?”

  Adrianna laughed. “Not much dear. A little relic of the 19th century died, but it was nothing compared to your ‘little death.’ You had a beautiful orgasm, darling. It was an honor to be present.” She turned imperiously to Dmitri. “And you, sir...back to your perch.” She snapped her fingers and he retreated submissively to his earlier seat, where he resumed paging through his newspaper as Adrianna hugged me. “April dear, we both came on the same cock in the same afternoon...Perfect symmetry!”

  We looked at each other, smiling in self-satisfaction, feeling the invigorating warmth of a licentious confidence. Dmitri reclined in background, and I looked back with an indecently nervous laugh, casting a girlish sideways glance on the man I just shamelessly fucked. I furtively raised my drink in his honor.

  Adrianna lit her cigarette, which had momentarily extinguished itself, resuming the conversation as if no carnal interruption had occurred. “I actually have a confession to make - I think you fuck like a writer.”

  “Why?” I was intrigued.

  “Because you are truly ready to be honest! And this afternoon has given you more to confess! Art confirms what we imagine we know, but it illuminates it, expands it, and heightens it. Fucking does the same. Like art, it sadly does not last either.” She leaned forward and affectionately grasped my shoulder. “You are also beautiful. Enjoy yourself, surrender. There is a great deal more I can show you, if you trust me, and I hope you do.” She leaned backwards, contemplating the paneling.

  “I would like that.”

  Adrianna returned her cup to the table. “Many of us are going to rent a château in the country t
his weekend and you’re welcome to attend. There will be writers, artists, and bohemians, daring souls! I’d be glad to invite Pierre Fournier, if you’d like. Maybe he will return your manuscript. But I cannot guarantee that he’ll appear, however.”

  I placed my hand commandingly on Adrianna’s shoulder. “Please invite him.”

  “Of course, of course...” Adrianna finished her cigarette and stuck it violently into the ashtray, its mischievous smoke spiraling into a vortex. “And I will give you directions to the château this afternoon, my new and very, very fond ami.”

  What Happens at the Château Stays at the Château

  Returning to my apartment, animated by my rousing sex with Dmitri, my pitch of erotic literary inspiration remained delightfully high. Feeling an insatiable impulse to put pen to paper, I opened my notebook and wrote another brazen confession, describing every moment of the torrid encounter. I started with a brief, rhetorical reflection: “Have you ever had a man simply handed to you as a gift, a naughty offering between friends?” I then proceeded to capture the rest of the delicious fuck in unsparing language. The Big Bad Wolf, with his heavenly Albanian cock, was my transitory muse.

  The following day I received Adrianna’s invitation as expected. Borrowing a tiny Citroën 2CV from a fellow writer at Franco-American Magazine, I drove south of the city to the address she provided, the spheres of the universe seemingly wickedly in harmony: the day was beautiful and cloudless, the Parisian traffic manageable, and I arrived at my destination within an hour. The 2CV was infamously loud, and its flimsy siding had been despoiled with a protestor’s spray painted message against the French-Algerian War (“Faites l’amour pas la guerre en Algérie!”), but the sight of the château returned my mind to a state of elegant reflection, its looming stone edifice decorated with the exquisite filigree of a Parisian éclair.