Neale and Sabine Johnson holidayed every year in the South of France. They always chose their resort carefully and often stayed in a small hotel with a modest number of rooms, but where the service was excellent and the cuisine unmatched by many similarly sized hotels close-by. You had privacy and not the crowds and helter-skelter of a place that had been featured on many a TV holiday programme.
They were both in their early fifties, childless, and Neale had sold out his business some two years ago. He no longer felt the slightest inclination to continue with the daily grind. Instead, he undertook some consultancy work and could decide where to do so and, most importantly, when.
The summer months were for him and Sabine to travel and to see friends. Now, after two weeks of being in the company of Sabine’s extended family, they were on their own.
They walked, swam and jogged most days and were supremely fit and toned. They ate sparingly and were fussy about how they dressed and appeared to others. Neale knew only too well that his slender-faced lovely, Sabine, could have a waspish tongue. But he loved her stately elegance and tasteful sense of dress, all of it enhanced by her long, silken, prematurely greying hair. He found her only too refined and dignified. When he sought to control her in dealings with others, she had a ready answer for him.
‘It shows my passionate spirit, chéri…’
Of her inexhaustible passion he was only too aware and thankful for. He really had no need to look for a diversion with anyone else, and they would often tumble back into bed after a morning’s jog and before the room-service came to tidy up and to make the king-sized bed; to put fresh towels in the bathroom and restock the room’s bar. The sounds of their trysts could even be heard to echo in the sumptuous bathroom that they also demanded and looked upon as a prerequisite before booking.
They had passed a lazy morning by the swimming pool and soon it would be time for a seafood lunch. It would be a cherished occasion they had been assured by the hotel manager, when he did his rounds at breakfast. He rarely heard any complaints on such a walk.
‘You look wonderful, darling…as always. I’ll just go and smarten up.’ He looked at his expensive stainless-steel watch that was fastened to his hairy wrist. ‘It’s early, I know, but we can have a drink before lunch…under those palm trees.’
‘Yes, let’s do that,’ Sabine enthused. She sat up to gaze in their direction and how the sun glistened on an azure blue sea. He saw how her skimpy bikini flattered her figure. It left nothing to the imagination and, in spite of her age, he was thrilled to see how some men delighted in her when they passed. ‘I’ll just put my beach-dress over this and wear my sandals…that should do, won’t it?’
‘You know it will…anything will when you wear it.’ He bent to kiss her and brushed his fingers slowly over her belly; delighted in the freckled skin of her breasts and their swell. ‘I won’t be long…’
She studied him for an instant and brushed a hand over Neale’s strong thigh; tugged gently on sun-bleached hair.
‘You really ought to wear less revealing swimming shorts, darling,’ Sabine now smiled on looking up at him and how he filled today’s choice; sky-blue with a black waistband. It was simple but only too flattering. She shivered, knowing only too well, and often, that Neale brought so much to her, yet she continued to be dismayed and feel deprived that they had failed to produce any children of their own.
With a large towel draped over his shoulders, Neale sauntered away, a small electronic key-card clutched in one hand. He stopped for a moment and remembered that Sabine had his wallet and iPhone. He walked on over the blisteringly hot slabs and took to the stairs.
‘What…what’s this?’ he muttered as he stepped over the carpeted floor in his canvas beach shoes and saw that the door to their room was ajar, if only just. The valet service’s trolley was some way down the corridor from his door.
He pushed on it silently. The rustle of a work-coat could be heard; the slow opening and closing of bedside drawers. Then, he saw her and spoke in perfect French. He used the young woman’s name.
‘What are you doing here, Celia? It’s late for you to be here.’ Out of curiosity, Sabine had asked it of her when she had been met a few days ago. Neale sees her shift nervily and notes that she has one hand clenched tight. ‘What…what have you got there?’
The attractive young woman stares back as if to deny what she has done. It can only be that Sabine has left something in the bedside table drawer.
‘I…I will put it back, monsieur. Please…don’t say anything about this, please?’ Her pleading voice is soft and melodious; her reddish- brown hair a delight and frames a slender, high-cheeked face. He fidgets and feels the effect that the sight of her has on him and how Celia’s work clothes shape her. The short hem of her work uniform revealing slender, tanned legs and as she moves to be out of his way. He likes how she steps on the carpet in light, graceful steps.
‘Not so fast, Celia…’
‘Monsieur?’
She realises only too clearly what may await her. She sees it in the man’s stilled look of eyes upon her. She cannot fail to miss the bulge in his swimming shorts and how he now touches it, either out of reflex or because of what the sight of her has aroused in him. She shivers on realising that she could do worse than to be ‘punished’ for a moment’s rush of blood to the head in taking something.
What could be worse than losing her job? Until he had discovered her in his room, he would not have known it was her day on duty, on this floor. The man’s strong and still ruggedly handsome, though his face is lined. The deep tan of his skin only makes that shock of greying hair so eye-catching. It’s swept back and still wet from a swim. He’s undoubtedly rich and he has his needs, whatever his woman may do for him. To run from the room may bring her even more trouble than conceding to what he wants from her. She still has to try to talk her way out of this.
‘I regret my actions monsieur…and I hope that you will be kind…and not report me.’
‘That depends…’ he replies on a stilled look upon her. ‘One favour in exchange for another is, I think, how it goes…’
‘This?’ is all she has to say in reply. Her trembling fingers are unbuttoning her work-dress and she watches him stride to the door and to lock it. ‘Monsieur…non…wait!’
She tries to move past him. He soon stands naked before her, his prick springing free of any restraint. He is unashamed to be doing this and now reaches out to touch her. His fingers stroke over her flat stomach before they move to hold her breasts and to squeeze them.
‘This…and with me?’
‘Yes…this…Celia!’ He pushes her dress off her body and then digs his fingers into her shoulders to make her kneel before him. ‘French it…you know what to do!’
What the man brings terrifies her. It is magnificent; springs out of a dense mat of hair and with a thin band traveling up, over his stomach and spreading onto a hairy chest. The man’s strong and lightly toned.
‘Monsieur…don’t humiliate me…please?’ She meets his hooded stare upon her and she reaches behind her back to unfasten her thin bra. ‘I will do this for you…in exchange for your pardon. Yes?’
He gives an exultant cry and bends to her; kisses her upturned face as his hands go under her armpits and she is lifted up as if she’s a rag doll. His lips tug on her hardened nipples; he kisses her belly as she is lifted up high.
‘Then this Celia…you make amends like this.’
She gasps out of fear and abject longing for the man; wraps her legs about his waist and gasps as he slowly enters her body and she feels him stretch her. She writhes as his long, thick penis plumbs her and seems to go higher into her body and she shudders. She knows not where he will end.
She feels his hands on her buttocks, his strength formidable as she moves on him and clenches his skin. She succumbs to his kisses and snorts in unison with his rousing efforts in finding her.
‘You’ll break me….break me, monsieur!’
‘No…no Celia…you wonder!’ he breathes hotly between her wonderful breasts. His lips tug upon them and he feels her shudder. She yelps in pain as she tries to tug them free.
‘Impossible…impossible!’ she cries out as one orgasm follows quickly upon another, her head bent to see how she is held on him. ‘Condom…put one on!’
She is like a rag doll as he carries her. He stumbles into the bathroom and scrabbles for one from the basket of goodies that the hotel so considerately supplies. They return to the bedroom and the bed.
She feels empty. He has pushed her off him and down onto the covers. She reaches out to help him smooth that rubber over his veined swollen length and bends to kiss the swollen tip and feels his hands in her hair. She gags on him and pulls away.
‘I’ve no time for finesse…’ he growls.
‘Then fuck me and be gone…go back to your wife…animal!’
He silences her anger with kisses and feels her hands beat on his back as he plunges back in. He fills her and reaches her core as he pumps furiously. He gasps in wonder as his hands grip her firm young breasts as his lips tug awkwardly on her nipples as she is lifted enough for him to do so, before he pulls her down on him once more.
‘Bring it on for me!’ he groans.
.Sabine’s legs caress and clamp on him; her muscles grip as she tugs in a frenzy of wanton lust for this man, her words having had no effect on him.
‘Once and no more! I make amends for what I have done!’ she gasps, squirming as he finds her deepest spot and she shudders.
It feels as if her insides are on fire and she claws at him with her fingers; will not mark him and draw attention to what may have passed in these furious moments.
‘You…you do it for me!’ he gasps.
She clamps on him with her arms and legs; yells out in unison with the man…yes, her lover for she wants no end to this raging fuck with a stranger…as…as he bursts. He smashes against her hips and finds her; makes her feel that he will break her; puncture her haven in his pounding, slipping and wondrously sliding ways.
She sees his admiring glance upon her as he pushes up on his arms and gazes down. There is undoubted admiration for what she has brought to him.
‘Yes…you found me, monsieur…in every way that matters, but we are even now.’
She feels him ease from her aching body. She shivers at the residual caress of that long wand of the man and the swollen tip stretching that thin skin of rubber. He would have found her if he had not sheathed his wand of pleasure.
He stumbles away from her and she dresses hurriedly.
‘I will ask that I work on a different floor, monsieur.’
‘Do that, Celia,’ he smiles; a gentle, consoling touch to her face not brushed away. ‘I couldn’t resist you…cannot trust myself not to ask it of you again. You’re forgiven and my wife will be told to be more careful with her things…I promise.’
‘My mother once said that defeating temptation is the hardest thing to do…’
‘I believe her. Now please, it is best that you go. I will not complain about the room. We each have to deal with what has happened. I mean you no further ill…I’ll even ask that you forgive me for my passion for you.’
‘You…you crazy English,’ she answered softly, disbelief to be clearly heard in her voice that he should have said that. It is as if he seeks her forgiveness for what he has done to her…no, with her. ‘I learn my lesson in the most wonderful way.’
‘Good, now be gone…please?’
Neale tore the filled condom from his drooping prick but waited until Celia closed the door quietly behind her before he flushed it down the pan.
That was the easy part. Dealing with his impetuous behaviour, and the sublime pleasure that had been ferociously discovered with that wonderful young woman, would take a great deal longer. He had been ruthlessly selfish; beyond his wildest imaginings on seeing to her and knowing what Celia had done.
♥
His fingers caressed Sabine’s thigh as he sat down at their table, the parasol snapping in the gentle breeze. The shade that it cast seemed to have little effect.
‘You took your time darling…’ she smiled, responding to his touch by leaning closer and kissing his cheek. ‘You’ve dressed for lunch…how very English you are.’
‘So very rich and English. Are you complaining?’ he managed to tease.
‘No, of course not…’
‘I thought to behave a little differently. You know that I don’t break too many of our rules…at least not too often.’
‘And I’ll keep you to one of mine. It’s too warm out here to make this a long lunch…’
‘You have a better idea, I suppose?’ he grinned.
‘Wait and see, lover. Each day brings new surprises.’
He nodded in agreement.
‘I found this on the floor on your side of the bed,’ Neale told her, slipping the diamond and ruby ring onto her finger. ‘I don’t want you to lose your eternity ring, so be careful with it every time you leave our room.’