Neale and Sabine Johnson holidayed every year in the South of France. They chose their resort carefully and often stayed in a small hotel with a modest number of rooms but where the service was excellent, the cuisine unmatched by many similarly sized hotels close-by, and where you had privacy; not the crowds and helter-skelter of a place that had been featured on many a TV programme.
They were both in their early fifties, childless, and Neale had sold out his business some two years ago and felt not the slightest inclination to suffer 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. They were supremely fit and toned; ate sparingly and were fussy about how they dressed and appeared to others. Neale knew only too well that his slender-faced lovely, Sabine, with her long, silken, prematurely greying hair that lent her a stately elegance, could have a waspish tongue.
‘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. They would often tumble back into bed after a morning’s jog and before the room-service came to tidy up and remake the king-sized bed; to out 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.
Today, they had passed a lazy morning by the swimming pool and soon it would be time for a seafood lunch, 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 and left nothing to the imagination. It wound his clock 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, brushed his fingers slowly over her belly and delighted in the freckled skin of her breasts and their rounded swell. ‘I won’t be long…’
She studied him for an instant and then brushed a hand over Neale’s strong thigh. She 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 grieved 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; 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 over the slow opening and closing of bedside cabinet drawers. Then, he saw her and spoke in perfect French. He used her 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; feels the effect that the sight of her has on him and how Celia’s work clothes shape her breasts and the short hem revealing slender, tanned legs. She moves to be out of his way, how she steps on the carpet in light, graceful steps.
‘Not so fast, Celia…just you wait.’ His voice is stern and uncompromising.
‘Monsieur?’ She realises only too clearly what may await her; she sees it in the man’s eyes on her and she’s soon taken in the bulge in his swimming shorts that he fingers. She shivers and realises 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; his rugged face lined and he has that shock of greying hair swept back and still wet from a swim. ‘I regret my actions monsieur…hope that you will be kind…and not report me.’
‘That depends…doesn’t it?’ 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!’
‘No, not for long…’
She tries to move past him but he detains her and Celia shudders as he is seen to strip off his swimming shorts.
‘Non…please don’t ask that of me!’
He soon stands naked before her, his prick springing free of any restraint. The man is unashamed to be doing so and he reaches out to touch her; brushes his fingers over her flat stomach than moves them to hold her breasts and to squeeze on them.
‘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 and springs out of a dense mat of hair, a thin band traveling up, over his stomach and spreading onto a hairy chest; 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.’
He gives an exultant cry and bends to kiss 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. She wraps her legs about his waist and gasps as he slowly enters her body; as she feels him stretch her and she writhes as his long, thick penis plumbs her and goes higher into her body. She shudders; knows not where he will end.
She feels his hands on her buttocks; his strength formidable as she moves on him; clenches his skin and succumbs to his kisses. She gasps 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 him and he feels her shudder and yelp in pain as she tries to tug them free.
‘Impossible…impossible!’ she cries out as one orgasm follows another. ‘Condom…put one on!’
She is like a rag doll as he carries her and stumbles into the bathroom. He 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…we just do it,’ he growls.
‘Then fuck me and be gone…go back to your wife…you animal!’
He silences her with kisses; feels her hands beat on his back as he plunges back in and fills her and reaches her core. He pumps furiously, his hands gripping her breasts and his lips on her nipples tugging on them as he finds her; feels Celia’s legs caress and clamp on him; her muscles grip as she tugs in a frenzy of wanton lust for this man.
‘Once and no more! I make amends for what I have done!’
Her insides feel on fire; she claws at him with her fingers but will not mark him and draw attention to what may have passed in these furious moments.
‘You…you do it for me!’ he gasps and 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 he bursts. He crashes against her hips and finds her. The man makes her feel that he will break her or 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; shivers at the residual caress of that long wand of the man as the swollen tip stretches that thin skin of rubber. He would have found her if he had not sheathed his wand of pleasure. She squirms out of his embrace and 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…’
‘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…even ask that you forgive me 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 in seeing to her.
♥
His fingers brushed 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 and responded to his touch by leaning closer and kissing his cheek. ‘You’ve dressed for lunch…’
‘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.’
‘So it does,’ he smiled and remembering what had been discovered moments ago. ‘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.’
♥