A Hot Weeend in Old Montreal

CHAPTER ONE

Tess twirled her hair as she spoke on the phone. Her smile was big. Julia Roberts big.

"If you promise... If you promise you won't make fun of me." She felt a deep sense of excitement and dread welling in her chest. "Okay. I'm not wearing any underwear."

There was a pause.

Then she giggled. "Phew." She found herself saying out loud. "You really like that?" She wrinkled her nose at the thought. She was naked under her skirt, it wasn't the end of the world. She was a few feet from her laundry room for Pete's sake, and this is all it took to get this guy off?

Well, she was flattered... Besides, he was gorgeous. Dark brown eyes, 5'11, goes to the gym a few times a week. Just enough that his forearms looked like they could break out of a vice grip, and his chest was strong. He gave "barrel chested" real meaning. He got some help from his genes, but he worked hard. Sometimes he even used her as a weight.

Best of all? Looking at him made her feel like a fucking puddle.

"Okay. Okay. You do that." She laughed and smirked, proud of herself and trying to remain sexy. "You enjoy yourself in the shower big guy. Okay. Okay, bye."

She smiled as she hung up her phone and put it in her pocket.

She woke up the next morning to a custom alarm of the Cranberries' "Dreams". She immediately grinned. She felt sexy thinking of the night before. And she'd forgotten to put on underwear before bed. So here she was. Naked. Feeling the tingle of the soft sheets over her nipples and clit.

Why not have some more fun?

She grabbed her phone, went to call him... nothing. She navigated to Tinder and to his profile, but it was gone. She looked in her conversation history and there was nothing.

That motherfucker. Really? Man, I thought we had fun.

CHAPTER TWO

Tess felt like this kind of thing shouldn't be happening to her. Sure, she wasn't a model, but who in actuality was? She'd always had

some

attention from guys throughout her life, she just always felt like she was placating to their needs. Maybe it was

because

she didn't feel like a model. Maybe she didn't have enough experiences under her belt to really warrant the kind of confidence she craved - a kind of confidence that would reverberate not just throughout her sexual experiences but into the real world.

* * *

"All I want is

fun.

" Tess said, french toast hanging out of her mouth.

Amy stared blankly back at her in a way only best friends can.

Amy started in, "and then you get attached. Guys can feel it. I'm serious. They feel that from outside the building, decide to go forward and get some anyway, and then back the fuck out because the stench was there the whole time, they just figured they'd nut first. That's guys. They hot but that's guys."

Tess laughed. "Wh— what?"

"It's true." Amy smirked.

"I know but who actually

says it

out loud

, Amy." She felt like high-giving her friend but didn't.

"So, all right, come on, what's the plan?" Amy asked.

Tess had wondered about her plan, too. She'd thought about it all the way from a haircut, to the gym, to the post office, and finally to brunch, and she had no idea.

"I don't know, man." She breathed. "I don't know. Fun. Actual fun. I'm gonna harp on it because it's what I want."

"Okay, all right", Amy said, faux-backing off. "You've said it, you want it, so go do something about!"

Tess took this in.

"And pay my bill!" Amy added. "I'm not gonna fake being your therapist for nothing."

CHAPTER THREE

Sunlight flooded Union Station's lobby. A glare had draped over the big televisions, the hungover students' reflective lenses, the plastic suitcases.

Tess stared at her ticket. "Tess Meridian". Roundtrip from Toronto to Montreal. Departing 6:35am.

She would visit her aunt and uncle who live in Old Montreal for the weekend. She would find some guys. She would sleep with those guys.

I will sleep with those guys.

She'd also try some good coffee, maybe a Beaver Tail, and get into all the other hipster joys Montreal makes readily available.

It became a mantra for the morning. She picked up her coffee thinking about the future, faceless men, considered buying some McDonald's thinking about the men, and, most importantly, accidentally smelled the attractive guy lined up in front of her at the train carriage thinking of men.

He was about a head taller than her. He was in a grey polo that showed off his broad shoulders and strong neck. He stood with his hands in his pockets. His forearms were right there for her. They tensed whenever he played with his phone or wallet inside his pants pockets. Her breath was getting away from her.

Reeeeel it in, girl. Jesus Christ

.

She didn't even notice the line moving until an elderly woman tapped her from behind. She apologized immediately and hurried onto the train with her backpack. The cool morning air passing through the platform coasted past her thighs, just under her skirt, and for the first time she felt the true, unwavering sensations of sexual want that morning.

She eased her way down the aisle and who should be sitting across from her seat? Polo guy.

"Polo guy!" She said. She was clever. Well, she could be clever. Clever in the "point out the obvious ironically" way. It helped with some guys. It had worked often in university.

"Drooling girl!"

She stood there mortified.

"Wait..."

He laughed. "I'm just kidding. You just seemed a little out of it in line is all."

"Oh! Yeah... well.... you know..." She meant to follow it up with more but nothing came to her, and so the comment just hung there, useless.

He felt the moment's significance and nodded to himself. He gestured to the seat in front of him. Then for the first time she noticed some actual humility and personality behind the gorgeous outer layer.

"Wait, you

are

sitting across from me, right? Or somewhere here?"

She laughed. She was glad he wasn't just hot. He was cute. Cute comes with personality. Hot can come from a poster, or through the TV, but it never really feels really.

"Yes I'm sitting across from you. Least we both get the view this way, right?"

"Right." The way he said it meant a lot more than the word let on, and his eyes didn't leave her once as she reached up to put her suitcase in the overhead. A little bit of her shirt rose, revealing her cute stomach. She felt the thrill of imagining him looking at her, and fantasizing because of it.

As she got settled into her seat she watched him looking out the window at the train cars and the downtown buildings. She noticed him shifting in his seat, too, and taking his phone out of his pocket and putting it back in again multiple times. She'd learned from a past partner that this was a way guys re-arranged their erections. There was that thrill again. She felt it like a firework travel from below her navel into her chest and burst, hitting everywhere.

CHAPTER FOUR

"So what do you take? Coffee or tea?" She asked.

She noticed the cart coming - 1and then she noticed he was asleep. She went to kick his leg from her seat, but then decided to do something just a little more sensual. She gingerly stood from her seat, leaned over him, and pressed her hand softly on his shoulder.

"Hey, do you want some coffee? Tea?" She said. Her voice wrapped up the words with a gentle quality, just the way she wanted.

He drifted back into consciousness.

"Huh?" Was all he managed. And then the cart was there.

She decided to be bold.

I will sleep with men. I will sleep with men. I will sleep with this man... probably.

She felt her sexual thoughts gain momentum.

I want to see what he's got hidden in his pants. I want to feel his chest, and his broad shoulders. I want to nibble and kiss his ne-

"Will either of you be having anything? Coffee? Tea?" The server said.

"Yeah," the guy said, wiping his face with his hand, just to wake himself up. "Coffee. Please." He nodded his thanks as he received the terrible paper cup.

"Same, please." Tess added.

They were alone again. The carriage was relatively empty. They sipped their coffees, stealing glances.

"So what's your name?" Tess asked finally. She levelled her best gaze at him, and prayed it could knock him.

"Andrew. Yours?"

"Tess."

"That's a pretty name." He said, on the offensive.

"I like Andrew."

He nodded. Taking in all the implications her response might possibly contain. He smiled to himself and polished off his coffee.

There was a beat. Something had arrived. Some kind of warranted tension. They were both ready. They both inhaled as though to speak, and then didn't.

Finally, Andrew let out, "How much?"

"What do you mean, 'how much'?"

He paused. Dropping his own best gaze on her. "How much do you 'like Andrew'?".

She nodded... continued to nod. "A lot."

What is my heart doing. Oh my god.

She felt like she was having a panic attack. A good panic attack; a panic attack that felt reinvigorating, like there was a life force in it, and she was poised to use that energy and throw it back at him.

"A whole lot."

Before she was finished she'd decided she had to do something. She got up out of her seat. For a moment Andrew looked startled, but then he realized what was going on.

Tess began to fiddle with the upper compartment and her bag, looking for nothing at all, and she'd wandered over to his side of the booth. Her pussy was just a few inches from the top of his right knee. He began to lift it, just a little bit, and she pressed forward against it.

It immediately made her open her mouth, just a bit, revealing a cute set of two front teeth hitting her bottom lip.

"Fuck." She heard him mutter.

She began rocking against his knee. She moved her neck involuntarily.

"Ugh, god." She whispered. "Godddd."

She saw the beginnings of a bulge appear in his pants. This time it wasn't his phone. Definitely not his phone.

He saw her notice it and went on the offensive. He put his hand in his pocket and re-arranged his cock, this time making it more pronounced. She could definitely see his cock now, and it made her fucking wet. She felt a deep pull of sexual desire below her navel, right down to her clit, and it made her ache. Ache.

He started applying pressure back and forth, and she lost all interest in faking looking through the upper compartment and began pressing her pussy against his knee, starting to lean over him.

He gently took her in his arms and offered her the seat next to him instead of in front of him. She sat down and immediately rested her head against his shoulder. She faux-innocently placed her hand on his stomach, and let it drift and rock with the natural rhythm of the train down until it was over the beginnings of the bulge. He moved his hand so it was over her thigh, gently squeezing, running it up and down, closer to her pussy and then down by her knee.

She moaned, secretly, into his ear, and they both closed their eyes.

"Blanket?" A passing train employee offered, thinking they were asleep.

"Please. Thanks." Said Andrew.

He threw the blanket over them as hastily as possible and they got back to it. She gripped his bulge from outside his pants. It was thick. Fucking thick.

"Ugh." She said aloud into his ear, and then began nibbling on his earlobe.

"I want to feel how wet you are." He breathed to her, and slipped his hand beneath the front of her yoga pants.

She was soaking. Fucking soaked. Everything felt like prime pleasure. Just the feeling of his hand, his strong forearm, against her navel and down onto her pussy, rubbing over her clit, sent her into convulsions, and she had her first orgasm. The build up is everything.

"Please, please, please." She murmured. "Andrew."

She could feel how rock hard his stomach was. How strong his shoulders were. She gripped them as she orgasmed, making sure to wring every bit of sexual desire out of the experience as possible.

She went mute as she finished. Then she let out of a massive breath of air, and began working on him.

He had his hand on the back of her head, something she usually found degrading, but this time she liked it. In fact, she didn't need the hand on the back of her head. She was going to suck his cock whether he liked it or not - and he'd like it.

She brought the blanket over her head and got to work, taking his cock out of his sweat pants and into her mouth. She tasted pre-cum. Salty and slow-moving, like honey. She lapped it up. Some got on her nose and it only made her more wet.

She wasn't used to this but she was crazed. Her sexual urges made her into something else, someone emboldened by the danger and the pleasure she was creating in him. She swallowed his cock right down to the bottom of the shaft, and then brought it back out again. She did this multiple times. The pace was slow, but deliberate, and she could tell it was working because he bucked his hips every time she made it down to the bottom of his shaft. She used her tongue to apply pressure up and down his cock and as she pulled it back out she began sucking on the head, softly at first, and then harder.

She worked so as not to be too obvious, doing most of the work with her hand, up and down, hard and soft, and using her tongue to tease the tip of his cock.

She heard him moan quietly, move his hips, and that was it. She knew what was coming. She pushed her head down again, taking all of his beautiful cock into her mouth, and felt it spasm. She could've stayed there forever. She loved the feeling of a guy cumming in her mouth. She loves the throbbing. The shallow breath. The absolute pleasure that permeates ever part of the man. It made her clit throb.

She swallowed, wiped her pretty mouth using the bottom of the blanket, and then pulled her head back out. She fixed her hair. He pulled his pants back up. They glanced at each other and smiled bashfully.

Tess knew to act bashful, but she'd do it over and over again for the next 5 hours if he wanted. Something had come from deep within her and all she wanted was cock. His cock was beautiful. Veins, a deep beige colour, and circumcised. She would swallow his cock as often as possible until they pulled into Montreal.

And she did.

CHAPTER FIVE

The buildings were beautiful. It really did look like Europe. She'd been to France before, and this felt no different. Just a little homier. She saw familiar Canadianisms everywhere, made fancier by the French that surrounded them. Even she felt better.

She could still taste the train - well, Andrew from the train, as she sat down at her aunt and uncle's kitchen table.

"How was it?" Auntie asked. "Much trouble? There are always delays. You got lucky."

"Yes." Tess smirked.

"Sugar? Milk?" Uncle asked. He was quieter. She liked that. She felt safe.

"Both, please. Why not splurge."

"Why

not

splurge! Yes, Tess! Yes."

She loved her auntie's bursts of energy. They felt natural against her uncle's peaceful demeanour.

She needed a nap, so she took her tea, headed up stairs to her guest bedroom, and closed the door.

* * *

"Tell me about his cock!" Amy's voice sprang out of the receiver.

"What? No! Amy!" Tess laughed.

"Ah come on. I've been with Michael for ages. Just tell me about his cock. I'm not gonna

do

anything, I just wanna know. Let me live. Let me live!"

Tess took a beat. "It was thick."

"Big?"

"Thick. Maybe 6 inches."

"Mm. The sweet spot."

"About that, you're right."

"Veins?" Amy asked.

"Some. The right amount. I don't want a d—" She quieted down so her aunt and uncle didn't hear. "I don't want a dick that's as veiny as The Rock. I'm looking for a Ryan Gosling kind of dick."

"Yeah you love dat Ryan Gosling dick don't you. Course a girl named 'Tess' does."

"Oh yeah so what's an 'Amy' like?"

"A Michael dick." Amy responded, like a saint.

"Ha-ha. Very safe answer, Amy."

"One thing we haven't talked about..."

"What?"

"You remember your ex lives in Montreal?"

It hadn't slipped Tess's mind. In fact, she'd considered it up until buying the ticket, and then she figured, if she couldn't find any other guys, she'd settle on him. She told Amy this.

"Well okay! We'll see how that goes. I know how horny he made you."

CHAPTER SIX

It was night.

Tess put on the cutest outfit she had. A black skirt, black stockings, tight lacy black panties, heels, and a tight black top. It's a classic for a reason. She wore a light spring coat over it so her aunt and uncle didn't ask any questions, and slipped out to the front of the house to wait for her Uber.

Her nipples stood straight out. Tess liked her nipples. They were small and cute. Guys liked to suck on them, nibble at them. She liked it too.

The Uber showed.

* * *

She pulled up to L'Escalier Cafe in the trendier part of Montreal. She'd seen it pop up on Instagram stories here and there, and it looked like it attracted a great mix of people: Students, artsy types, adults on a date night, people looking for a little community.

She walked up the narrow stairs and into the front area, hit with a wall made of sweet smelling alcohol, candle lights, and guitar strings. She turned around. A band was setting up. They were hot. All of them. Even the female lead singer. She was short with dark hair and a round figure. She wore a beret.

They actually wear berets? What? Well, she looks cute.

She decided this was do or die. She began walking towards the band - and then rapidly turned around.

Okay. Drink first. Then hot people... That makes for a good new mantra —

"Nice outfit." A voice said.

Tess turned around. It looked to have come from the guitarist. She shivered a good warm shiver. What she wanted was coming to her.

"Thanks, picked it out just for you." She laughed.

He laughed it off. "Sorry I don't mean to make you feel uncomfortable, I'm just pretty familiar with the regulars," he stepped off the foot-high stage towards her, "and I don't recognize you."

"Yeah I just came to visit my aunt and uncle." She was barely aware of what she was saying, and she knew he was, too. They were drinking each other in. Apparently his thing was black. Her thing, at this moment, was him.

"You wanna grab a coffee? After I'm done setting up?"

"Yes." She said, sounding more obedient than she wanted.

"Good." He said, sounding exactly as confident as he wanted.

She sat watching him go through practice, watched his forearms tighten and release as he strummed a sweet, vaguely folky song. She watched his face. His eyes. They were studious, like he was learning as he was playing - or teaching. She was rapt.

CHAPTER SEVEN

They sat in a coffee shop. Their feet were touching. They didn't bring attention to it. They were taking in the other strangers, the familiar-unfamiliar French accents. The streets. The meals.

She hadn't gone into this looking for a capital-d Date, but she'd found it, and she was happy. There's nothing wrong with genuinely engaging with someone before you take their cock in your mouth, is there? But pretty soon she was eager. So was he.

She moved her heel up against his calf, and in a flash he had her by the hand, glancing haphazardly around them to make sure they were leaving alone.

They made it around to a quiet alley. That was it.

"I need your cock." She repeated it.

He responded with a nod and a kind of intense eagerness in the eyes like it'd been what he'd been waiting to hear all Spring.

"How long's it been?"

"Long enough I'm going to make this count."

"Good."

His fingers were already tugging at the edge of her skirt, at the edge of her black panties. She had her hand on the outside of his pants, feeling his thickening cock. Just the sight and feeling of her lacy black panties, apparently, was all it took to get this lucky guitarist hard.