A Paris Affair Read Online Free PDF Page B

whispered, “Married men know what works!” Valérie laughed and pointed to her bedside table. He laughed, too, but he wasn’t fooling around. He pulled out of her and went directly for the drawer, opening it so roughly that he brought the whole table crashing to the floor, with the lamp following. There, in the mess of spilled contents, was indeed her plastic, pink-hued vibrator. Oscar smirked, grabbed it and turned it on.
    He flipped her onto her stomach and slid his straining cock back into her. “Honey…” he said, pumping again. He lifted her hips. He grabbed a pillow to make a cushion between her cunt and the vibrator head. Then he put the vibrating unit against her while he pumped his cock. She could feel all her nerve endings climbing. She felt her orgasm coming, and the sensation was that she was flying off that cliff that they had leaped from. The buzz of the vibrator registered like a plane engine.
    And that was the end. She came with a crash that exploded deep inside, and her clit growled like a cat ready to pounce. When it did, she saw a kaleidoscope of colors so vivid that she gave an openmouthed cry. Did it last a second or an hour? She lost track of time, and came out of it sweating and heaving.
    But Oscar wasn’t done. He pulled out of her, sweet sex honey running everywhere, and turned her over. She had a chance to look at his cock. It was bigger and thicker than Philippe’s, which accounted for its performance, she guessed. Oscar slid himself into her, face-forward, and devoured her with his mouth. His tongue explored every part of her tongue and, still pumping, he bent over to suck her nipples, first one, then the other. Finally, he emitted a grunt that began quietly, then grew to almost a shout. She felt as if she was fucking a tiger. She was thunderstruck.
    It was over. His cream streamed out of her and onto the tangled mess of sheets. He flopped over onto his back and lay there, sweating and panting. Beads of sweat shone on his olive skin. She looked at him naked for the first time. His skin was darker than Philippe’s, and he was hairier, but it suited him, since he was like a wild animal, she thought.
    “I love your body…” she said quietly. His arms were muscular. He wasn’t big, but she was right about the sexual power he held. He was hard and sinewy, his muscles taut. But she couldn’t reconcile making love with him in Philippe’s own bed, so she put it out of her mind.
    “The timing was right,” he said. “It was meant to be.”
    He circled the curves of her breasts with his fingers as they lay on the bed. “I forgot how lovely it is to lie together after making love,” she said.

    “Your hair is wild. It reminds me of an exotic queen,” he replied, twirling a lock with his thumb.
    She put thoughts of her husband out of her mind and instead chose to experience the moment, as if time was just stopping briefly. “I love your body….” she repeated, running her palm from his curved biceps, over his strong chest and down his stomach, where she stopped and kissed him.
    “Maybe I’ll make coffee…?” she asked, looking up from his chest.
    He laughed and sat up, and grabbed a bedsheet to wipe some of the sweat from his brow and then his chest. “Yes, yes…and those croissants now. I’m famished. Can I jump into a shower?”
    He came into the kitchen in his boxer shorts. He smelled faintly of her family soap, which confused her senses. He sat down at the kitchen table, where she had breakfast things laid out. “Please,” she said, gesturing to the table.
    He poured her espresso, then his own. “Sit down, sit down,” he said, grabbing her hand as she moved back and forth in the small kitchen. “You’re okay with this…?”
    “I don’t know. I’ve never done this before. I just wanted you…I wanted you ever since I saw you,” she said, sitting down across from him. “Sometimes you meet someone, and then if you’re lucky, you get a moment with them, I think…and