This is the twenty-ninth episode of my unreliable memoirs. Each episode is self-contained, so you can read them without having read the previous ones (although sometimes it helps with the context and names a bit).
I hope you enjoy it.
M4bloke
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It was a Monday morning at the end of August and I was sitting in the passenger seat of Carole's Ferrari, admiring her legs as she piloted the little Dino north in the direction of Lyon. She'd let her short summer dress ride up to expose her lightly tanned thighs, along with just a glimpse of the white cotton panties she was wearing. I stroked her thigh then ran a finger across the top of her pussy. Carole smiled and parted her legs to give me better access.
The same thing had happened a year ago, the first time she'd taken me for a drive in her Ferrari. She'd worn a short dress then, with white panties and white tennis pumps to drive in. Since then it had become a ritual whenever she took me out in the car. We both enjoyed it.
Lesley, Carole, Fabien and I had arrived back in Provence, from Greece, on the Saturday. We'd had a great week on Daniel's yacht and coming back was a bit of a let-down for everyone.
Lesley and I had wanted to spend some time together while we were in Greece. Sex with other people was exciting but after a hectic summer and a year of living apart we needed to focus on each other for a bit. There was never a chance of us drifting apart but it was important that we reinforced the bonds between us. Now we were back in France however, it was the final week of our holiday and time to have some fun again.
On the flimsiest of pretexts Carole suggested that she take me to the Rhone Valley to research how some of the vineyards in the area were diversifying into high end hotels and restaurants. She'd booked us in for two nights at a winery which was also a small boutique hotel and Michelin starred restaurant.
It wouldn't have been fair to leave Lesley and Fabien back at the house and so Carole booked them into a hotel in Monaco. Lesley was incredibly excited about this. She loved games and gambling and couldn't wait to hit the casino in Monte Carlo. She also had a slightly addictive personality however, so Fabien had strict instructions to let her have fun but watch out that we didn't end up penniless.
Both parties had set off after breakfast on Monday, leaving Buster and Skye to hold the fort in Provence for the next couple of days. Carole and I stopped off in Montelimar for a bite to eat on the way and to buy some of their world famous nougat. Then we continued on to our destination, which had been created out of a former chateau nestling in the hills of the Pilat national park.
The lady on reception didn't bat an eyelid as she checked us in. Carole easily looked ten years younger than her forty five years and I could have probably passed for mid-twenties. So the perceived age gap wasn't enough to draw attention.
The hotel was small. It probably only had twenty rooms in total but it was stunning, both inside and out. The bellboy showed us to our room, which came with its own patio overlooking the vineyards. I gave him twenty Francs and he left us in peace. Once he'd gone it was a foregone conclusion what would happen. Carole and I hadn't fucked in two weeks and after fingering her in the car I knew she was on heat.
We kissed to begin with, but were soon keen for more. Carole let me lift off her dress then reach round and unhook her bra while she got to work on my shirt. It was new and, like me by now, the buttons were stiff. She giggled in frustration as she fumbled with them and so I offered to help, leaving her free to undo my belt and pull down my jeans down instead. Last to come off were Carole's white cotton panties. I tugged them down and she kicked them away, like a stripper.
I lifted Carole up and carried her to the bed. She squealed when I did this then she wrapped her arms around me and we kissed as I gently lay her down. She was as light as a feather and as delicate as a hummingbird. On any other day there'd probably have been foreplay, but it wasn't necessary. We both just wanted one thing. I positioned myself over her and with one hand I briefly fingered Carole's pussy. When I knew she was wet, I manoeuvred the head of my cock against her pussy lips then pushed in. I found myself slipping into her with ease and Carole sighed as she took my length inside her.
I always worried about fucking Carole too hard, especially missionary style. She seemed so delicate that the last thing I wanted to do was break her pelvis or something like that. So I started off gently, but after a while, and with her whispering words of encouragement in my ear, I found myself pounding into her as hard as I would have with anyone else. This was exactly what Carole wanted of course. We all wanted something different to the sex we got from our partners. In Monaco Lesley was probably getting the kind of erotic fantasy sex with Fabien that I knew she enjoyed, but wasn't very good at. This way everyone was a winner.
Carole wrapped her legs around my buttocks and gripped onto me tightly. She was so light, that with every stroke, I lifted her hips into the air then forced myself down into her, skewering her to the bed. She loved it and sunk her nails into my back, cursing as the orgasms ripped through her. I didn't want to stop. I could see how much she was enjoying it and I wanted to please her. So we fucked like this for a full ten minutes before I eventually came. Even then she didn't let go of me. She clung on tightly, forcing herself against me, until I went soft inside her.
When she did release me, I climbed off and lay beside her. Reaching down, I pushed two fingers deep into her cum filled pussy and pressed the palm of my hand firmly against her clitoris. With my tongue I teased her nipples then kissed her neck. Carole didn't say anything for ages. She just lay there and let the endorphins course through her.
"I'm forty five, Steven," she said eventually. "But you make me feel like I'm a student again."
"Honestly, Carole, when I look at you I don't see someone who's forty five."
"How old would you say, then?" she asked, fishing for a compliment.
"Oh forty seven, maybe fifty," I joked.
Carole thumped me playfully.
"The only way I can really answer that," I told her, "is to say that, to me, you're the same age as Lesley, Kate, Suzy, Sophie and Heike. I think of you all in the same way. And I'm constantly grateful that any of you want to spend time with me."
"Thank you, Steven."
"The other thing I should confess is that I can't get enough of your body. You and Lesley are very similar, so I guess that's no surprise. Lesley knows how much I like the way you look, that's why she exercises like you do."
"Now, I did know that bit," Carole laughed. "Sometimes she calls me up just to ask about her training regime. You know you're very lucky to have found her. I just hope she's having as much fun in Monaco with Fabien, as I am with you."
"I'm pretty sure she will be," I said. "I just hope she hasn't lost all of our money at the Casino."
We got up and had a shower then went for a walk in the Chateau's grounds. There was a formal garden and beyond this were the vineyards. The terrain was a little more hilly than in Provence but the vineyards looked fairly similar.
"Are you serious about doing something like this in Provence?" I asked.
"I don't know Steven," Carole replied. "I'd like to, but I'll be working for Durolitum and I don't want to burden Fabien, not after what happened with the winery."
I could see Carole's dilemma. Fabien had made a mess of the winery. There was no reason to believe he'd do any better with a hotel or a restaurant. He was an artist and that's what he wanted to be. It wasn't fair to force him to be an hotelier.
"You'd need to bring in people," I said.
"I know."
We walked back through the courtyard of the hotel. Just as a beautiful 1960's Mercedes-Benz 190SL Cabriolet was pulling up. An attractive, casually dressed youngish man got out and, carrying a small holdall, he disappeared into the reception.
"That's a nice looking car," I said.
"You like old stuff, don't you," Carole observed. Then she added laughing, "And that wasn't an invitation to make a joke at my expense. I've got a very fragile ego you know."
"I do," I told her. "Look at those lines. The car's got character. I like my Porsche. It's modern, fast, reliable, but that Mercedes is a thing of beauty."
We sat out in the courtyard and a waiter brought us some drinks. I was desperate for a beer. As we sat chatting, the young man with the Mercedes reappeared. He acknowledged us, then sat down at one of the tables furthest away and lit a cigarette. After the waiter brought him his drink he produced a folder from a satchel and began to read through its contents. Carole studied him for a while when he wasn't looking then turned her attention back to me.
"Do you want to eat in the Restaurant?" she asked. "It's got two Michelin stars."
"Is that good?" I asked.
"Even you know it is," she said, giving me another thump.
"I don't mind where we eat," I told her.
"Good, because I want to eat in the restaurant."
