Susanne sat on a bench in the Bois de Boulogne by the upper lake. Her boyfriend, Jean, held her hand. They had just returned from the bushes where they had made love. Her dress was simple: trainers, stockings, no knickers, no jeans, no bra, all topped by a clinging t-shirt with a deep v-cut in front allowing the viewer a pleasant view of the pink right breast with a brown eye peaking out.
Susanne topped it with a white band to hold back her long auburn hair, with a black handbag slung over her bare shoulder. Her jeans were neatly piled next to her. Her naked pussy was stroked by the cold breeze.
Strings of semen mixed with dribbles of frothing cum ran along her thigh and dripped onto the bench seat. The sweet cold breeze cooled the heat between her naked thighs. Jean's cock was laying on her thigh, and his trousers were still open after they had staggered to the park bench. Cum dribbled from his cock, adding to the pool collecting in front of Susanne's crack.
They were spent.
Their pleasure was destined to increase. They had been watched by angry eyes as they had fucked in the bushes.
A woman strode out in front of them. It was dark and the street lamps in this part of the forest were shielded by branches and leaves. The Lac du Bois de Boulogne is a well known site for trysts, but for more of a mercantile nature. This was Paris. It was April and the 33rd Paris Marathon was to be held on the 5th. Jean was to run in the race for a children's' charity. Susanne had come with Jean from Bath in the UK to help him relax before the race. She had gone a little too far in releasing Jean's tensions.
The woman wore a black cape buttoned at the top. Her high heels clicked on the pavement. Her short blond hair was topped by a black beret. She stopped directly in front of the bench and swept her eyes across the languid scene of post-coital depression. She stared directly at Susanne's pussy and then to her shoulders all exposed to the cold winds of April.
Susanne watched as the woman stopped and allowed her cape to sweep open. She was naked. Susanne felt herself become aroused by the sight of the shaved pussy peaking from the dark folds. She stared and raised her head to look directly at the woman.
"You like what you see?" the woman said in crisp English. There was a touch of a Russian accent in her voice.
Susanne felt herself get warm. She felt her wetness increase. The woman pulled a riding crop from under her cape and lifted it towards Susanne. Susanne flinched but the woman laid it gently on her thigh and slid it through her crack, picking up gobs of cum. She raised it to her lips and sucked the tip. She replaced it between Susanne's legs and stroked it gently through the dribbling white cum. Susanne instinctively spread her legs.
The crop entered her and slid around. Susanne looked at Jean but he had passed out. She felt good and warm. The cold air only made her arousal greater. The woman smiled. "You like?"
"Oh, yes!" She absently pulled on her breasts and started rolling and pinching her nipples. I did like this. Here I was sitting on a park bench out in a park in the center of Paris and I was being molested, not by a man, but by a woman.
The woman slowly dragged the crop out of her wet hole and raised it, working it slowly into her own shaved pussy. Susanne was mesmerized. She couldn't keep her eyes off the scene, nor her hands off of her own tits. She wanted to lick the pussy, to clean the crop. The woman opened her cape further, leaving the crop dragging from her cunt.
Susanne fell to her knees in the mud. The woman smiled knowingly. "Place your lips on my pussy. You want to, don't you?" I could not resist. I felt the crop on my tongue and licked down the shaft until I found the delicious hole. My tongue forced its way alongside the crop and slid along the vestibule finding the clit mounted and ready. I was becoming very wet myself and my fingers began a frantic musical rhythm on my sex. My breath came in shorter and shorter gasps. I buried myself in the glorious odors steaming from the shaved pussy.
The woman pulled the crop out of her hole and held it out for Susanne to clean. She swallowed the tip and allowed her tongue to slither all over it, all the while inhaling the perfect scent of a woman.
Susanne jostled about trying to get a better grip on the crop, while her hands were busy on her need. So doing, she accidentally nudged Jean. Jean startled and shifted himself. The crop cracked down on his shoulders. "Sit!" ordered the woman with a dark glare. In pain, Jean stumbled onto the bench, holding his sore shoulder.
"Do not speak!" To emphasis, she held her crop out menacingly. Susanne was demurely kneeling and had tried to resume her pleasurable licking of the aromatic pussy. "Stop!" The woman ordered Susanne to get back.
Pointing at Jean with her crop, she waved him over to her. "Kneel!" she ordered. As Jean got up and started toward her she hooked the back of his leg with her crop so that he collapsed onto the muddy grass. Jean was frantically looking at Susanne wondering what relation the two women had that they had been so intimate with each other.
The crop slashed against his cheek turning his face toward the woman. "Don't look where you are not told to look! Come to me. Do you like?" She raised her cape and Jean was treated to a delectable view of a bald wet pussy. He forgot the burning pain. She spread her legs and stroked her hand along the cunt lips, then moved her fingers to her mouth to suck.
Susanne could see Jean getting hard, as his cock was hanging out of his unbuttoned trousers, and rising by the second.
Jean started to look over his shoulder at Susanne, but thought the better of it. Another slash across his back forced his head up. "Eat! I give you this pleasure." Jean was hungry and his cock was twitching. He moved his head close to the mound and drew his tongue across and then into the crack, sucking on the labia. His face disappeared between her legs.
