Fools for Lust Read Online Free PDF Page A

shirt on but his cock already jutted forward as she approached Susi’s receptive body. He was uncut and his foreskin bunched heavily below the mushroom cone of his glans. He was very big.
    The man found his position at Susi’s entrance and buckled forward and speared her. A few spectators applauded but most remained quite silent. From where he sat, he couldn’t see Susi’s face, only her white arse and the hypnotising sight of the dark, purple cock moving in and out her, faster and faster, every thrust echoed by a wave of movement on the periphery of her flesh, like a gentle wind caressing the surface of a sand dune.
    It lasted an eternity, longer he knew that he would have ever managed. The guy was getting his money’s worth. And the audience, many of whom were blatantly playing with themselves in response to the spectacle unfolding before them. She would be very sore at the end of this. Sweat coated Susi’s body like a thin shroud as the man dug deeper and deeper into her and he watched her opening enlarge obscenely under the pressure of that monstrous cock.
    Shamefully, he couldn’t keep his eyes away from the immediate perimeter of penetration, noting every anatomical feature with minute precision, the vein bulging on the side of the invading cock as it moved in and out of sight in and out of her, the very shade of crimson of her bruised labia as they were shoved aside by the thrusts, the thin stream of inner secretions pearling down her inner thigh, and neither could he help himself getting hard again watching the woman he knew he had fallen in love with getting fucked in public by a total stranger.
    That night, she curled up against him in the slightly exiguous hotel room bed, drawing his warmth and tearing him apart.
    They had packed and waited in the hotel’s lobby for the airport shuttle they had booked earlier that morning. One suitcase each, a Samsonite and a Pierre Cardin. They hadn’t discussed yesterday night, acted as if nothing had happened. They had the same flight to Chicago where they would part. He on to London, she to Vienna. Now he knew, he would want to see her again, in Europe. It would be easier. They had come through this crazy experience and he realised how much she had touched his heart.
    The blue mini-coach finally arrived, ten minutes late, and he picked up the suitcases and carried them to the pavement. As he was about to give her case to the shuttle’s driver, Susi put her hand on his arm.
    â€˜Yes?’
    He had never realised how green her eyes were.
    â€˜I’m not coming,’ she calmly said. ‘There’s nothing for me back home, I’m staying in New Orleans.’
    â€˜But ...’
    She silenced him with a tender kiss to his cheek. When he tried to talk again, she just quietly put a finger to his lip indicating he should remain silent.
    â€˜No,’ she said. ‘No explanations. It’s better like this.’
    The driver urged him to get on board.
    As the shuttle moved down Burgundy, he looked out of the window and saw Susi walking to a parked car with her suitcase. Louis stood next to it. The shuttle turned the corner and he lost them from sight.
    The short drive to Moisan was the loneliest and the longest he had taken in his life.
    He would, in the following years, continue to write many stories. That was his job after all. In many of them, women had red hair, green eyes and bodies of porcelain white. And terrible things happened to them: rape, multiple sex, prostitution, drug addiction, even unnatural forced sexual relationships with domestic animals. But they all accepted their fate with a quiet detachment.
    He would continue to occasionally meet up with strange men and take uncommon pleasure in sucking them off. This he did with serene indifference, because in his mind it didn’t count. It was just sex, meat, it was devoid of feelings.
    He never visited New Orleans or saw or heard of Susi again.

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