Paris 1936

Paris. This was their gift to each other, the month of February in a 3rd floor apartment in La Rive Gauche, the artistic heart of the city. Valentine's. Day in the city of Lovers.

Dimanche matin. 14 Fevrier

The morning sun streamed through the open balcony door as they lay in bed. The sounds of the city coming alive on a Sunday, had broken the silence. Wafting up from across the street was the aroma of fresh bread and croissants from the boulangerie.

The bed. To say it was old was an understatement. It was well over a hundred years old. It had been painted, and repainted at least a dozen times, the most recent being a bright, sunflower yellow.

"Good morning," he kissed her lips softly.

She opened her eyes, and smiled. The room smelled of fresh coffee. He had been down to the cafe and across the street already to get coffee and croissants.

As he removed his t-shirt, and sweatpants she felt hungry, not for the coffee and croissants, but for him. She wanted to feel him in her mouth, she wanted to feel him grow, she wanted to feel his hardness filling her mouth, she wanted to feel him rock back and forth, using her, unable to stop.

He slid in beside her, his hand cupping her breast as he kissed her again.

"Good morning," she replied in a quiet voice. Her hand reached up and ran through his tousled hair.

"How's my girl?" His green eyes sparkled as he looked into her blue sky eyes.

Licking her lips seductively, she stared back up into his eyes, "Hungry."

"It's a good thing I went out, then."

Slowly shaking her head, she reached down and took his manhood in her hand, "For this."

He began to stiffen to the touch of her hand, "Mmm."

She wrapped her hand around his stiffening shaft and began to slowly pump her hand back and forth.

"You know what I like," the tone of his voice betrayed his growing excitement.

"I do know what you like, your girl should anticipate what you want before you know it."

His fingers pinched her pink nipples one at a time, sending ripples of pleasure through her body.

"And you're my naughty little girl," his finger pulled on her nipples to the same rhythm of her hand stroking him.

"I am your naughty little girl, Sir," she licked her lips seductively as her eyes locked with his.

Her fingers and words had stoked the fires of need and desire. He moaned softly as her hand sped up its stroking.

"I need you," it was almost a demand.

Her mouth watered as she watched her hand pumping his stiff cock, and her voice displayed a sense of urgency, "I want you."

She scooted down in the bed, and propped her head up on a pillow.

The head of his cock now resembled a large plum, and as he straddled her chest, he put his plum on her waiting lips.

He filled her mouth with hardness, she loved how it felt. His size, his texture, his taste, they were all the things she craved.

She stroked him as her tongue swirled around his tip, pausing, and playing with the little cleft on the underside of his cock-head. Experience had taught her this drove him wild.

The bed began to creak as his hips began to slowly move back and forth. She savored in the feeling of his erection moving back and forth, her tongue pressing up hard.

For her, the bed sounded like it was singing, joining in on their love-making. At first her hands grasped and pulled at his butt, pushing him harder and deeper into her mouth, the tip touching the back of her throat.

His hands held on to the top of the bed-frame as he used her mouth for his pleasure. He loved watching his cock move in and out of her pretty face.

With the bed squeaking out a sing-song rhythm, her right hand drifted down between her legs, and her finger dipped into warm, wet folds. Her head moved back and forth with his thrusts.

"You feel so good," His left hand dropped to her head. Grasping her hair, his hand aided the movements of her head.

"You're my naughty little girl," His words were heavy with lust, and he knew what she wanted to hear, "My sweet little cocksucker."

"Mmm," she moaned. Her fingers pressed against her swollen nub, moving in tight little circles.

The bed had began to bounce with the motions of his thrusts into her mouth, the squeaking louder and more pronounced. Occasionally, at times like this she had wondered if people in the next flat or below them could hear, and know what they were doing. She hoped they did.

"He's fucking my mouth," Her mind and body was on fire, that's exactly what she wanted him to do. She sucked harder to increase the pressure on his thrusting member.

She knew from his motions, growing urgency of his thrusts that his orgasm was nearing.

He was lost in a fog of lust, his needs and wants were all that he was aware of, and her mouth. His cock was alive and on fire, he felt that he could feel every ridge in her mouth, and every tastebud on her tongue with each thrust. He gripped her head firmly as he pumped harder and faster.

She wanted him to cum in her mouth as climaxed, she wanted to taste him, she wanted to be marked by him, owned by him.

"Oh, baby! I'm going to..." his words sent her over the edge just as his first jet of cream spurted into her mouth. Her whole body shook as her orgasm crested.

His hand held her head still as he thrust in, a deep primal moan escaping as he let loose, feeling the contractions spraying his cum against the back of her throat.

It was what she wanted, to feel him release into her mouth, but there was something else she wanted. She pulled her head back, his cock popped out of her mouth, and squirted a jet of cum onto her cheek. It was something she knew he enjoyed, seeing his cum on her face, his mark on her, and it made her feel that she was his, and his alone.

He slid back down in the bed, and kissed her on the lips, he could taste his saltiness lingering.

"Thank-you, baby."

"For what?" She asked as she took a sip of her coffee.

"You know what," he gave her another kiss.

"Oh, that," she giggled, "I just wanted some cream for my coffee!"