From Paris with LoveFrom Paris with Love

Toys

From Paris with love

Many years ago my girlfriend, Suzanne, came home early from work squealing about the last-minute invitation to join her team at a weekend conference in Paris. What’s more, it was going to be a swanky do, with a top of the range hotel, including free everything. I was thrilled. We’d only been together for a few months and we’d yet to sample luxury of any kind, never mind swish hotels in Paris. I dashed up to our cramped bedroom, in her sister’s house, and started making decisions. She stood at the door; her face forlorn. ‘What’s wrong?’ I asked, holding a tie against my best suit jacket.

‘I’m sorry, Michael; it’s just me.’

‘Oh.’

Putting on a brave face I replaced the suit in the wardrobe and emptied my suitcase for her to fill with her stylish, if a little creased, finery.

As we drove to Heathrow she said, ‘Now, Michael, I know you aren’t her greatest fan but you will try to be nice to Barbara when I’m away. Please, you will try, won’t you?’ She saw my face — like I’d just sucked a lemon. ‘Come on, try, won’t you? Oh, and you haven’t forgotten it’s her birthday today?’

I had forgotten. ‘Yes, of course how could I forget? I’ll be nice — well, at least as nice as she is to me.’

It’s worth noting here that Suzanne and her sister Barbara are the proverbial ‘chalk and cheese’. Suzanne is bright and sparkly, golden hair, tall and slim. Barbara has short, dark hair, a mouth like a rat trap and thick, black-framed glasses, through which she peers with constant disapproval and disdain. I couldn’t tell you about her figure since she only ever dresses in shapeless jumpers and baggy trousers. To best describe the sisters — picture Daphne and Velma from Scooby Doo.

Since Suzanne and I had moved in with Barbara, four weeks ago — whilst we waited for our rented flat to be redecorated — Barbara and I had hardly had a civil conversation. I don’t know what the issue was but clearly I’d done something to offend her. Suzanne was constantly reassuring me that Barbara, or, as she unbelievably referred to her, Barbie — was a lovely girl and would do anything for her younger sister. Even the word ‘girl’ seemed inappropriate. In years Barbara was a young woman, twenty four back then, but in manner she was nearer fifty four. I could only think of two possible reasons for Barbara’s dislike of me — that I’d taken her sister away from her and, Suzanne’s suggestion: we had cluttered up her neat, little house and life.

Anyway, whenever I came into the same room as Barbara, she either got up and left or did her disapproving sniff and bury herself in a text book. The worst times were when I came down to breakfast, to be met by a chilly silence and ill-concealed irritation.

‘Come on, Michael, she’s lovely — she really is.’

‘Who, Barbie?’

‘Yes, she’d do anything for me. She and I have always looked after each other and I want you two to get along — I want you to be part of the family. Why don’t you take her out for a drink tonight or get in a takeaway?’

I promised I’d be nice. Maybe the old battle-axe would be better company if it were just the two of us.

After a long and sensuous goodbye kiss at the gate Suzanne and I went our separate ways — her off to glamourous and sophisticated Paris, me to a weekend with Velma.

When I got home, around 5pm, the sun was still lovely and warm: I went straight for the garden. An hour or two listening to the cricket, deck chair, gin and tonic; plenty of relaxing time before Barbara would descend from her office at the front of the house. As I emerged from the side passage and stepped onto the patio I almost cursed out loud — there she was: on my patio! OK, it was her patio, her deck chair, and to be fair, it wasn’t my sunshine either, but, nevertheless, I was definitely not pleased to see her. I remembered my promise, ‘Oh, hello, I wasn’t expecting you.’

She was dressed in her usual uniform — baggy and dull. She had a stack of books on a chair next to her and folders piled up on the table. Barbara was in the final stages of her accountancy training — all she ever did, to my knowledge, was pore over text books.

‘I do live here.’

‘Yes, I know but… anyway, it’s nice to see you.’

I could tell she didn’t believe me.

I said, ‘Er, I was going to listen to the cricket and…’

I had hoped she’d say, ‘I’ll go indoors’ or ‘Can’t you listen indoors?’ but instead she said, ‘Go ahead, I’m only revising.’

‘Oh, well, hmm, I’ll go and get my radio then.’

Remembering my promise I said, ‘Happy birthday by the way,. I’m going to have a gin and tonic, would you like one?’

I’d have bet money she’d have said no — I’d have lost. She looked up again, ‘Thank you, Michael, I think I will. I’m not used to gin so you’d better make it a weak one.’

‘Sure, don’t worry about that. Mine’s going to be a weak one too. By the way, you do know it’s boiling hot don’t you?’

She looked at me, confused.

‘You’re wearing a jumper?’

‘Oh, yeah.’

I went into the kitchen and prepared two gin and tonics: mine strong, hers weak. I went back to the patio and put her drink down. ‘Happy birthday casino siteleri to you.’

She picked up her glass and clinked it against mine. She smiled. I blinked. For a split second I saw a different girl. She looked younger, much younger, and really pretty. I took a long glug and said, ‘Excuse me, I’ll get my radio.’

I went back into the kitchen for the radio. Where had I left it? I looked up and down the worktops and shelves: not there. It must be in the bedroom. As I turned to go upstairs I glanced out of the window, then gaped. Barbara was pulling her thick jumper over her head. I’d never seen her without some kind of heavy-duty top. She twisted in her chair to drape it over the back. I just stood there staring. As she turned I could see that she wasn’t as shapeless as her jumpers had suggested — not at all. She was now gathering up her folders and, to my absolute fascination, leaning down and pushing them into the large bag beside her chair. For a couple of exquisite seconds I saw down the front of her T shirt — jeez, what a beautiful sight. I gulped — this time without the gin, just in wonder.

She sat back up and opened the packet of cigarettes she’d evidently taken from the bag. Barbara, smoking! I didn’t know she smoked. Mind you, I didn’t know she had such stunning breasts either!

She lit a cigarette then took a sip from her glass. She looked as sexy as hell. Conscious that I was just standing there staring I wiped my face and went upstairs for the radio.

I went into our room; it felt like an oven. I went straight over and opened the window and drew the curtains for some shade. Looking around in the dim light I saw the radio plugged in next to the bed. I unplugged it and turned it on — nothing. Damn, that was why it was here — the batteries had gone flat. I heard Barbara put her glass down on the table outside. Tiptoeing to the drawn curtain I peered down through the gap. Oh my God — what an eye-full! From my vantage point I could see straight down the front of her T shirt. Look, I know these days it’s entirely inappropriate to objectify a woman’s body. I totally get that. I know that by just standing and staring at Barbara, I was taking advantage of the situation for my own gratification. I know all that but I’m sorry — I couldn’t help myself. I was so turned on; I was getting hard just looking at Barbara’s cleavage. What made it worse was that every few seconds she would either tap her cigarette against the ashtray or reach for her drink — in either case revealing even more of her large, milky breasts and a fleeting glimpse of areolas. As I gawped my penis hardened. I pressed myself against the window sill, forward then back, side to side. I was taking quick, shallow breaths and even emitting quiet gasps.

I’ve always found the combination of a sexy girl, the smell of a cigarette and the taste of alcohol to be wonderful aphrodisiacs. The two hefty slugs of gin and the smell of Barbara’s cigarette were turning me on and the sight below made me think I’d better relieve the rapidly-growing pressure — there was no way I could go downstairs in this state. I didn’t move, all I could do was look at Barbara’s breasts and wonder what they’d look and feel like when released from their containment. I began to rub my hard penis. She stubbed out her cigarette and took another sip of her drink. ‘Michael? Are you coming?’

I jumped. Did she know what I was doing? Had she spotted me peering through the gap in the curtains? No, she had turned around and was looking into the kitchen.

I wiped my face again. Trying to banish thoughts of her breasts from my mind I went slowly downstairs, doing my best to get my erection under control.

As I went back into the kitchen she saw me and holding up her empty glass said, ‘Gosh, that was lovely. May I have another one please?’

I drained mine, made two more, and joined her.

‘Where’s the radio?’

‘Oh, can you believe it, it needs new batteries. I don’t suppose you have any?’

For some reason she blushed.

‘Double As. I need two double As — you don’t happen…?’ As I said it I couldn’t help peeping at her chest. ‘No, I can see that you…. Ahem.’

She held out her cigarettes; I took one. We lit up and looked at each other. She smiled. I shook my head.

‘What?’

‘Barbara, I’ve never seen you smile before. You look really different.’

‘I’m sorry, Michael. I have been a bit off with you. I’ve been under terrible pressure but, I’m very pleased to say, I finished my main exams today. I suddenly feel liberated. Recently I’ve been needing to get loads of sleep to keep on top of all my work. Sometimes I don’t sleep as much as I’d like.’

‘Staying up late and revising?’

‘That sort of thing. Anyway, in what way do I look different?’

I looked at her again. Just by taking off her jumper had changed everything. She wasn’t as slim as Suzanne but her neck, arms and shoulders were rather elegant. Her mouth wasn’t a rat trap at all. She had full, pink lips which, when she smiled, revealed straight, white teeth. She hadn’t taken off her glasses but I could see that her eyes were a rich, chestnut güvenilir casino colour — shiny and alive. ‘You’re a really pretty girl. I hadn’t realised. I hope you don’t mind me saying?’

She was blushing. ‘I don’t believe you but thanks anyway.’

‘No, I mean it.’

‘Suzanne said you were a nice man.’

‘Hang on, I’m not that nice.’

She took another long swallow of her much stronger than before gin and tonic. ‘I’m not used to compliments. Suzie always gets the attention. Right from when she was born: I was put into the shade.’

‘That must have been hard for you?’

‘Not really. I liked working hard at school. I wanted to pass my exams. All the silly stuff that teenagers got up to didn’t appeal to me. I was happy to be the dull one; she’s better at being sparkly.’

‘I’m sorry though. I bet you get your share of admirers.’ As I said it I wondered if that was true. The way she covered herself up, and how she was with me, suggested the contrary.

‘I’m not interested in admirers, Michael. I’ve got to get my exams sorted out first.’

I didn’t know what to say. I looked away. The conversation had taken my mind off Barbara’s body and, for the first time, I was just enjoying her company.

Her next action stopped the easy chatter in an instant. Taking a long slug of her glass she placed it on the table then leaned back and, putting her arms behind her head, stretched luxuriantly. ‘Wow, it feels great to be out in the sun with no pressure on me.’

I couldn’t help stare as she thrust out her breasts. She saw the direction of my gaze. I looked away, red-faced.

Rather than shift the focus of attention she then said, ‘Michael, is it true that men are obsessed by bosoms? Suzie says they are; is it true’

Her use of ‘bosoms’ made me want to giggle. I tried to control myself. ‘Well, that’s an interesting question. Why do you ask?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Forgive me, I think I’m getting a bit tiddly. I don’t often get the chance to talk to a man on my own and since you’re a man, and we’re alone, I thought I’d ask you.’

‘Er, well, I don’t know about all men but I think that generally we do find, um, bosoms, appealing.’

‘And?’

‘And what?’

‘Are you like most men?’

I swallowed, ‘Yes.’

‘Suzie said you did.’

‘Oh.’

I wasn’t sure what to say next. The fact was — Barbara had taken on an entirely new identity. I know that the size and shape of a woman’s breasts doesn’t change her from old bag to alluring beauty. In this case, however, I was finding Barbara utterly desirable. Yes, it was her body, at least what I could see of it, but it was also the rather charming mixture of high-intelligence and childlike naivete.

‘Barbara, I’m sorry.’

‘Why?’

‘I misjudged you.’

‘Oh?’

‘I thought you didn’t like me and, well, I didn’t like you because of that.’

‘That’s perfectly reasonable.’

‘Do you like me?’

‘I don’t know you. Suzie likes you, that’s the important thing.’

‘So, be honest, why have you been off with me?’

She put her cigarette out and downed the last of her drink. I could see from her bright eyes and reddened cheeks that she really was a bit squiffy.

‘Do you really want me to be honest?’

‘Yes.’

‘And will you be honest too?’

‘Yes. Well, I think so. It depends on… yes, I’ll be honest.’

She was quiet. I looked across. Her eyes were closed in thought. I chanced another glance at her chest — yummy!

‘I’m going to tell you. It’s a bit embarrassing — well, a lot really. But, I’m going to say it.’

I looked into her eyes — what was she going to say?

‘You know I need to get plenty of sleep?’

‘Yeah, because of all the work you have to put in for your exams.’

She nodded. ‘You know my house?’

‘Yes?’

‘It’s quite new and, as you know, new houses aren’t built very solidly.’

‘That’s true.’

‘Well, you know the wall between our rooms?’

‘Yes?’

‘It’s not very thick.’

I felt my face go red. Oh no, she heard Suzanne and me next door. Suzanne was always telling me to make less noise when we had sex. Barbara was going to tell me off. ‘Ah, I see. OK, OK, I get it. I’m so sorry, Barbara. We’ve been very selfish. Um, we’ll have to come to an arrangement… ‘

‘No, that’s not what I mean.’

I stared at her.

She shut her eyes. Then, taking off her glasses she put her hands over her face and said, ‘This is so embarrassing. The thing is… ‘

My penis had been semi erect for the last few minutes; it began to harden properly as I guessed what she was about to say. Trying not to coax her I said, ‘Take your time.’

‘Oh, forgive me, I like it. I like to listen to you. It, well, I like it.’

I let the silence fill the space between us. I pictured her in bed on the other side of the wall as Suzanne and I made love. Was Barbara stroking herself as we made the bedsprings creak. Did Barbara bring herself to an orgasm as we climaxed next door? I remembered her blushing when I asked about the batteries? Bloody hell, was she pressing a vibrator against her clitoris? As I thrust into Suzanne, was canlı casino Barbara thrusting a throbbing dildo in and out of her vagina? AS the images played, my hard penis started throbbing against the constraint of my jeans. I adjusted my position slightly — it didn’t help.

‘I’m sorry, Michael.’

I looked across at her. She looked utterly dejected.

‘Barbara, what are you talking about? There’s nothing to say sorry for. Actually, I think you’re really brave to even mention it. I mean, well, I don’t know what to say. Thank you for saying it.’ I wanted to ask what she liked about it but didn’t dare.

‘Can I say more?’

I wanted to yell ‘yes please’ but said, ‘May I have another cigarette please?’

We both took one from the packet. I leaned across and lit hers. I smiled at her, ‘Anything you want to say to me is fine. I’ll never tell anyone.’

She smiled. What an absolute sweetie.

‘I’m terribly naïve about men. Suzie has always been bright and shiny; I’m just the dull, brainy one. She’s had loads of interest from men; I never have. I’m not bothered about it — I’ve got a career and one day I’ll sort out my personal life. The thing is though — I think I’ve missed out on, um, you know,… ‘

‘Yes?’

‘Sex.’

‘Ah.’

‘When I hear you two next door I can’t help get excited and wish it was me. I, oh, Michael, I have to, you know.’

‘Um?’

‘You know — um, well… ‘

‘Um?’

‘Masturbate.’

I found the word, simple enough, spoken by this strange girl, intensely arousing: my penis throbbed. I said, ‘Oh, I see.’

‘You’re not embarrassed are you?’

The only thing embarrassing me was the giant erection that was surely visible to her. I hoped that the table top might just be providing sufficient cover. ‘Well, you’re being very candid. I’m flattered if I’m honest. In fact, if we’re being honest… ‘

‘Yes, you promised me you would be.’

‘Well, if I’m honest I find the thought of you being excited really arousing too. And, the thought of you… you know, what you said, well, that’s amazingly, er, exciting’

‘You don’t think I’m a bad person for listening and, you know, enjoying listening?’

‘What can you hear?’ I wanted her to describe the sounds and images — just the thought of her saying the words would be so erotic.

I thought she would demur but she just said it, ‘Well, I hear the bed creaking, slowly at first then more quickly, then the springs start to really protest. I often hear Suzie moaning. I sometimes hear you sort of grunting and groaning. Sometimes the bed actually hits the wall behind my head as you get faster and faster. Now and then Suzie says ‘quiet’ or ‘we’ll wake Barbie up’. Then, everything slows down and then, well, usually it’s quiet.’ She looked at me.

Throughout all of this I’d been staring at her. I was simultaneously picturing what Suzanne and I were doing whilst wondering how Barbara was pleasuring herself as she listened. Most of all though, if it was even possible to do three things at the same time, I was aware my bent double, erect penis might snap. OK, I know that’s a bit of poetic licence but, it sure was hard.

I croaked, ‘And, do you imagine what we’re doing?’

‘Yes.’

‘What does it make you feel?’

‘I’m sorry; I know it’s wrong; it makes me feel envious of Suzie.’

I looked into her eyes. She looked into mine.

The phone rang.

She jumped up, then sat down again. ‘Gosh, I am a bit drunk. Excuse me, I need to get that call. I’ve been expecting it.’

She got to her feet and unsteadily walked to the door into the kitchen. I watched her go. She was wearing her normal baggy trousers: what was she like underneath that camouflage? She went into the kitchen and down the hall to the bottom of the stairs then disappeared up them. I puffed out my cheeks. Keeping my eyes on where she’d disappeared I rummaged around to ease the discomfort in my jeans. Standing up I tried to rearrange myself to relieve some of the pressure — that didn’t work. I sat down again and started to feel my erection through the material: God, it felt good. I thought of Barbara in her bed listening to Suzanne and me next door. Was she naked, or did she wear a silky nightie, or, maybe she wore pyjamas? Did she slowly and lingeringly undo her buttons and draw apart her pyjama jacket, eager to cup her breasts, to feel her nipples harden. Maybe she didn’t waste time on her own foreplay but just open her legs and masturbate? The intensely erotic images were making my hand move quicker and quicker. If I kept this up for much longer I was going to ejaculate in my jeans. I quickly looked around: high hedge on one side, six foot fence on the other. As far as I could tell I wasn’t being overlooked from any angle. I Double-checked she wasn’t back down then quickly undid my zip and put my hand against my swollen penis. Because of the restriction of my jeans and boxers, it was desperate to be freed. Could I release it, stroke it, bring myself to an urgent climax? Although the drive was almost beyond my power to resist I also wanted to save it until I could do it properly and really enjoy it. But, the thought of Barbara with her legs open wide, fingers urgently slipping in and out of her vagina, her face in ecstasy, was going to be too much for me. I was rubbing myself faster and faster — I was going to ejaculate in a matter of seconds. Shit, she was back in the hall!

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