French Lessons

I arrived at the Free Press, self-proclaimed New York Times of the Bayou, during the oil boom of the '70s when cash was abundant and apartments not so much. Rents, of course, were unaffordable. Jean-Paul Gelpi came to my rescue with a two-room garage apartment next to his two-room garage apartment atop George Lasseigne's 356 Porsche Speedster – the whole garage shook whenever George turned the engine over. Four years before, George stopped building and repairing fishing boats, and began building and repairing oil-field supply boats. And buying Porsches.

One evening during my first week on the job I stopped to eat at the all-night Blue Bird Grill across from the bridge before taking the Lafayette highway to a friend's sofa – I was homeless, you might say.

That night in the booth next to me sat two young Canadiennes, Marie-Louise and Josette. Josette was one of the "French Teachers," a group of about 200 or so young people brought to Louisiana to teach French in elementary schools as part of an unconscionably political program run by the unconscionably political Council for the Development of French in Louisiana, CODOFIL. Jean-Paul was one of only a handful of men in the program.

Louise was Josette's friend come to visit from St-Bozo-de Clown, Quebec, or someplace like that. Josette was most unattractive, with a nasty personality, a big ass and a pair of enormous tits, though of different sizes. Louise was pretty but very thin – no boobs, no butt. I was flirting with Louise for a good 10 or 15 minutes before, in my bad French, I introduced myself and asked them to join me. They were the ones who told me about Jean-Paul and the garage apartment.

Jean-Paul, a Parisian, had this good looking girlfriend, Claire, who was from Canada. She was relatively tall, with dark hair, wide hips and an ass to die for. But we'll get to that later.

Jean-Paul had already warned me that most of the French Teachers looked more like Josette than Claire or even Louise. Jean-Paul and Claire promised to introduce me to Claire's roommates, two other Canadiennes also named Claire, who lived in the eponymous House of the Three Claires, a former rectory on St. Anne Street. My hours at the newspaper were irregular, but it seemed that every time I walked up the stairs to my apartment, Claire was walking down. We'd say hello and all, but that was about it.

Being the ass-obsessed son-of-a-bitch that I was/am, I made regular visits to the Blue Bird Grill hoping to run into Louise again. No such luck. So, next time I saw Jean-Paul I asked him if he had a phone number or address or whatever for Josette. To show I still maintained a modicum of taste, I quickly mentioned that my interest was in Louise, whom I assumed I would find there. He seemed to approve (with a big smile I might add) and, after finding a mimeographed piece of paper, provided me with an address for Josette. He also told me that Louise spent most of her days alone at Josette's mobile home watching television. I began trying to come up with a plan, for lack of a better word.

CODOFIL provided a wealth of single women to South Louisiana, and I knew I had to get the first one right to avoid unfavorable gossip. Mess up with Louise, and it may be hard to recover. At first I thought of waiting around her trailer park and "accidentally" bumping into her when she walked to the store. But I didn't have enough patience. Besides, that was a stupid idea. Then in a fuck book I had bought in New Orleans at Christmas this guy shows up at his lovely neighbor's house with a bottle of champagne and a pack of condoms.

Yreka!

Originality doesn't count in these kinds of things, so two days later, with three hours between deadline and a city council meeting, I picked up a loaf of French bread, wine, sausage and brie, and drove to Josette's trailer. I found a place to park, straightened my tie, brushed off my jacket, and at one thirty-five knocked on the door of the trailer in Lot No. 9.

"Oui?" came the voice from inside. Suddenly it occurred to me that Louise may be out and the voice behind the door was Josette's. I certainly was not familiar with either voice. And again, what if it was the wrong trailer? I mean a lot of people spoke French in South Louisiana in those days. What do I do with the wine, bread and stuff?

"Jack de Blue Bird Grill. Le restaurant pres de pont bridge." Gibbrish, I guess, but I was trying.

Well, Louise excitedly called my name, flung open the door, pulled me inside, and proceeded to welcome me with hugs and kisses as well words I couldn't possibly understand even now – that St-Bozo accent I guess. I felt I had crossed the finish line before the race even began. I pulled my bottle of wine out of my sack, which Louise grabbed from my hand and rushed off to find a cork screw and glasses. I closed the door behind me, walked to the kitchen, and began putting the groceries on the counter.

"Non, non, non. Ici, là bas, here, there" and she pointed to the coffee table in the living room. So, while I sat on the sofa and arranged the bread and stuff on the table, Louise was in the kitchen collecting wine glasses, knives and plates. She was all giggly and excited, acting busier than she really was.

She was wearing loose fitting jeans – she didn't have much in the way of an ass to show off anyway – and a blue v-neck sweater, which matched her eyes perfectly. She wasn't wearing a bra, but then she didn't have much in the way of tits to show off either. She sat down on the carpet at the end of the rectangular, glass coffee table, and signaled for me to get off the sofa and join her on the rug. I did.

I picked up the wine and poured – I still think it's presumptuous to sample table wine. We made small toasts, "Le lunch" and stuff like that. And for about 20 minutes or so we sat in silence, sipping wine and munching on bread, sausage and cheese and staring at each other. My French was awful, and she had no English to speak of. When I looked into her eyes, which I remembered as being bright and blue, I understood from the dilated pupils her giggles and perkiness.

We had another glass of wine, at which time Louise came to sit next to me against the sofa. I carefully pushed the table toward the center of the room. Louise brushed against my body as she sat, accidentally on purpose so to speak. And some things don't need verbs and nouns.

I put my arm around her and pulled her close. Her light body folded into mine and our kiss foreshadowed our coming union: tongues darting, exploring, breathless. I put my hand on her small tits. "y'a pas grand choses là," she laughed, not much there. She reached for my crotch, briefly wrapping her fingers around my shaft. (There would soon be something there.)

I removed her sweater and ran my hands up and down her back. I could feel each rib as my hands passed. I could feel her heart beating faster and her breath became more rapid as I passed my hands over her back, my fingers kneading every rib. And I kissed her long neck.

Louise by now had undone the knot of my tie and was unbuttoning my shirt, rubbing my chest and planting kisses on my neck and shoulders, before looping my tie around my neck and pulling me to the floor on top of her. All this time, we continued to kiss and to nibble on ears and necks. She opened her legs just a bit and lightly squeezed my leg between hers, inviting me to move my leg father up so it pressed against her pussy. She squeezed tighter now. I in turn pressed my growing cock against her. I kissed her tiny breasts and sucked until her nipples were hard.

We turned on our sides, Louise hitting the coffee table with her foot but somehow managing to avoid knocking anything over. I unfastened and unzipped her jeans which being baggy swiftly came off. When I reached down to touch her cotton bikini panties I could feel a wet spot, which I found terribly exciting.

Louise rubbed my cock through my trousers, making soft purrs of satisfaction and anticipation at my hardness. She moved down to my waist to unbuckled my belt, and when she had difficulty figuring out how to unbutton my pants – so many hooks and buttons sometimes I can't – she pulled them off. I had long ago kicked off my loafers, but Louise took care of the socks. "Assis-toi,3" sit, and she pointed toward the chair in the corner. I stood up and did as told. And when Louise began crawling across the room on her knees I reached down and grabbed her hair to lead the way. Before I could sit, she grabbed my shorts and pulled them off, ripping them as she did. I think I knew what was coming, and prepared to be lifted into the clouds.

She lifted my cock against my body and ran her long tongue up the shaft, from the base to the tip. She began to kiss my testicles, now tight against my body, and licking the area under my scrotum before taking me as deep into her throat as she could. And again that magic tongue. I placed my hand atop her head but did not push or press as she took me in and out and in and out. Once more she licked my shaft and sucked and kissed my testicles. She knew what she was about. She stood between my legs so that I could remove her panties.

"Assis-toi." I said. My turn. Guess that's the way to learn French. Our positions reversed, I drop to a knee and begin kissing and passing my tongue over the insides of her deliciously thin thighs. Her muff, thick but trim, glistens in its straw color and from above I hear slight moans and short, rapid breaths. When I move to plunge my face into her mound of Venus, Louise grabs me by the hair and holds my head between her legs. My lips stroke her lengthening clitoris before my tongue penetrates her lips to drink in her love juices. Those thin legs hold my head in a powerful vice, bones against my ears. Her pussy damp and delicious and small and surely tight.

Before I could climb up to get on with the fucking, I heard the door open and a chill breeze fill the room. Then a cough and a, "est-ce-que cette fete est privée?"4 Is this a private party? Josette announces. I had pretty much lost my hard, what with the cold wind on my naked ass, the interruption and the surprise. But it quickly returned when Louise turned me over and grabbed my cock, while Josette shed he sweater to reveal those enormous tits and her jeans and panties to show her full bush – and I mean FULL bush.

Josette pushed the sofa against the wall and knelt down next to me opposite Louise. They said something in French that I was unable to understand, and Louise stepped back and let Josette straddle my leg. She plant a long, wet, tongue-filed kiss on my mouth, even more passionate as those of Louise. Josette plunged in, taking my cock and sucking as she moved up and down in increasingly bigger stages.

My hand was stroking Louise's pussy all this time. "Hé, I'm the one who found this guy," Louise injected. And Josette made one final stroke to take as much of me as she could before sloooowly moving away, with a smacking of lips as she let me go. She turned to Louise and they kissed, a long wet kiss as they briefly massaged each other's breasts. Louise fell atop me and kissed me with that wet, sensual, tongue-filled kiss she had had with Josette and which we had enjoyed earlier.

She kissed my neck – leaving a mark I spent two days explaining away – and, after tracing the outline of my ear, whispered, "Fuck me." I guess those are important English words to know. And, after all, as much as I was enjoying Josette, it was Louise I had come to fuck.

So, I did. She was so damn tight yet so moist I almost immediately came. As I pumped, pushing to get far inside where her muscles forced me out, Louise was whispering something in French. over and over. From the chair near the television I thought I could hear Josette moaning, but I was too occupied to pay much attention. Then, Louise began to shake and arch her back and her moans became louder and louder, Oui, oui. là... aaaaaaaaah." I held her as tight as I could, mostly to keep myself distracted so I wouldn't come. But also for the exciting sensations of holding such a frail woman, with a girl's body.

Now, I clearly heard moans coming from the chair in the corner. Josette was stretched out on the chair, her ass at the edge of the seat, stroking herself. I turned on my back with the intention of having Louise ride me. But, she interrupted my plans, "Son tour." Her turn, she said. And she got to her knees, and motioned to her friend, "Viens." Come.

Next thing I know, Josette's too-big body was straddling my not-so-big body, and holding my quivering cock at the edge of her pussy ready for her turn. I didn't have to do a thing but enjoy. And, boy, did I enjoy. That big body was soon forgotten as I had a phenomenal view of those not-so-little tits, the big one and the bigger one.. Josette was not quite as tight as Louise, but she made up for it in her own way.

She certainly knew how to fuck. She moved up and down, my cock sliding in and nearly out and in and out again. At one point she seemed to be really riding me as if she were on one of those mechanical bulls they have in Texas bars: up and down, back and forth, her hands in the air, then behind her head and then caressing her tits, which were bouncing with every move.

Those tits had put me a trance, enough so that when Josette pinned my wrists to the floor, I was unable to move or resist. She may really have been that strong. But trance or no trance I was strong enough to reach my hand up Louise's leg and stroke her pussy, my finger inside then across her clit. And, as Josette was fucking me, Louise was giving me another of those never ending, passionate, tongue filled kisses. Then she attacked my neck before sliding down to massage my testicles, leaving her passion marks across my body as she went. Yes, passion marks.

Josette seemed to get off on that, and her pace quickened. She was almost jumping on my cock. She began massaging her own tits, as her moans grew louder and louder. "O my god," she used the English cliché. She fell across my body to finish her orgasm, those tits pressed against my chest.

As if in a dance, Josette lifted her big body off my cock and placed that glorious muff on my face– it was amazing, kind of like a bear. I thought I would suffocate or have my face crushed. But, what a way to go!! At the same time Louise began to suck my cock again.

"Whoa, whoa, I can't hold it in anymore," I called from my forest paradise between Josette's legs. I was about ready to explode. I had wanted to do that inside Louise, but Josette was making it hard to decide... and Louise's attention to my cock had my head spinning. Josette quickly got off me, the dance continuing, and joined Louise, who lifted her head to let Josette take over. I am now huffing and puffing and straining, all the while absorbing all the pleasure in the world. Josette let me go and began licking my thighs as Louise was now sucking me.

Then, I exploded. Louise rose up to let my cum squirt into her mouth and across her face, but soon Josette was licking my cock trying to get as much cum in her mouth and across her face as she could. She went down on me again, sucking hard to draw more of what was left.

I was spent. I just lay there on the floor and watched my two Québecoises lick my cum off each other's face and exchange my juice in one of those long, wet, cum-filled kisses. Then each in turn delivered those juices back to me.

Still naked, I struggled to my feet and made my way to the bathroom alone. But I wasn't alone for long. Josette and Louise arrived and jumped in the shower. Seconds later they dragged me in after them. Louise began shampooing my hair as Josette washed my body, paying attention to every part. I wanted to return the favor and began washing Josette's enormous tits. When Louise began kissing my cock and testicles, Josette stuck a finger up my ass. I jerked and she removed it, but it was a great sensation, a light prick of pain followed by a larger tingle of relief.

Josette tried it again. "Whoa," I moaned, the water trickling down my back. "So good. So good." And she moved in deeper. Something new. Something wonderful. She was now facing into the shower as Louise rubbed her clit and I held on to Louise's ass. I had no idea what I was supposed to do, so I exploded, accompanied by two eclectic women from the Great White North.

We washed again. Soon my cock was starting to come back up, but the rest of my body wasn't going anywhere. So, I gave each woman in turn my own wet, passionate, full tongue kiss; dried off; put on my suit, and went to my city council session.

I found the local pols hard to follow, not only because of the French they often lapsed into, but the feel of my two Canadiennes enveloping my dick. Not a bad feeling at all.

The French Teachers could be fun. I was looking forward to meeting a few more.