Challenge 3: City of Love

Groaning, I look at the clock... 6am. I reach over to shut off the alarm and nudge you. All I get is an incoherent grunt. Shaking my head, I sit up and swing my legs off the edge of the bed. At least I didn't have anything to drink. Looking fondly back at you, I figure I'll let you sleep as I shower.

Smiling, I think back to yesterday when you had the idea of climbing into the shower with me. We laughingly decided that shower was not the proper term for a small box with water falling from one side, and that the British had the right idea with the term 'water closet.'. Apparently, Europeans take economy of space very seriously, even in our spacious suite.

Gack, it's 6:05, and I am still sitting on the edge of the bed. Way to early after the long night we had. High on our first full day in Paris, we paid no nevermind to jet lag and got amazing recommendations for a restaurant and a jazz club for our evening entertainment.

Despite that I am generally not a huge fan of jazz, drinking, or smoke-filled rooms, we were out well into the wee hours, carousing and speaking broken Frenglish with the natives, making new friends we planned to meet this afternoon.

Which, of course meant that we'd have to go to the early mass at Notre Dame. Sighing, I look back at the clock. 6:07. Well, we made a deal, and the prospect of meeting Jean and Nathalie later in the day is and appealing one.

One more shake and I am up, only 8 minutes behind schedule.

Back and freshly showered in record time, I see you are still blissfully snoozing the day away. Climbing carefully on top of you, I begin to rub my body all over you, kissing, licking, biting. I can feel that parts of you are awake, of not yet coherent. Smiling, I slide down your body, taking you into my mouth as you moan. Sucking at you greedily, I feel you throb to full hardness between my lips.

Glancing up, I see you raise yourself on your elbows to watch me.

"Mmmm,"I moan around you before raising myself up. "You awake?" I ask.

"Oh yes," you reply.

"Good," I giggle as I hop off the bed. Walking over to my outfit laid out on the chair, I say over my shoulder, "Because it's time to get up and get dressed for our big day." I smile wickedly.

You drop back down the bed making sounds of distress. Throwing a clean towel at you, I say "Oh stop being such a baby. I promise I'll give you some after our sightseeing."

"I'm sure I can't wait that long," you moan. "You're such a tease. You're going to kill me."

"Well, we can't have that," I purr. "Perhaps if you are a very good man, you'll get some before then."

I see your eyes light up with the possibilities. I grin and push you to the shower as you rise.

As you shower, I get dressed, looking outside to a glorious day beginning. I slip on a white cotton thong under dark washed fitted jeans, a white tank to match, and a soft stylish blazer as comfortable as it is good looking. Not wanting the bother of styling my hair, I comb it carefully into pigtails low on each side of my neck, slip in a pair of silver hoop earrings before donning my black wool cap.

You are just stepping out of the shower, so I hand you your clothing for the day, an easy, casual wardrobe we picked out for this trip... Clothing that you feel comfortable in, but that also help is fit in without sticking out immediately as Americans.

I've noticed that as much as you grumble about "dressing up to walk around old building," you love the attention you've gotten from the French ladies in our short stay... The next four days may just make a believer of you.

Dressed smartly and ready to face the world, we head out. We chose Hotel Vill D'Estes because of it's position right in the middle of the Latin Quarter. We are just a hop, skip and a jump from The Louvre, Notre Dame, and our other destination for today, Les Jardins de Luxembourg.

It's still early and a bit breezy as we hit the streets, so we grab a cab to the Ile de la Cite and Notre Dame cathedral. We take the opportunity to canoodle in the back seat for the ten-minute ride. My hand on your lap feels a re-swelling of your excitement as you give me that look of need. I grin at you, and Making sure that the drivers eyes are on the road for once, I flash you a breast, hardening instantly in the cool air.

Just as I cover myself back up, the driver takes his eyes off the road yet again to watch us and make smart comments in French. I am assuming by his tone and the smattering of French I know that he is amused by the two Americans in the City of Love.

I wish he would keep his amusement to the seriously cramped streets and his wayward driving, but we reach our destination alive, and we pay the man as he says perhaps the only English phrase he knows, "Lovers, yes?" as he winks then drives away.

Turning to you, I smile, and you laugh out loud pulling me to you tightly. "Lovers, yes," you say in a low voice before kissing me deeply. I can feel your excitement pressing into my hip, and I push myself into you as your tongue slides deftly into my mouth.

I moan softly as your hand rises to the back of my head and tangles in my hair. After a few moments, you step back and adjust yourself with a rueful smile. I can read your thoughts, it's going to be a... difficult... morning. I grin again.

We join the throng of people heading into mass. So many people for a weekday morning. I am amazed. As we enter the doors of Notre Dame holding hands in the crush of the faithful, the first thing that strikes me is the echo of hundreds of voices bouncing back. Some words are crystal clear, others are soft and muffled, almost as if being send back from hundreds of years in the past.

The grandeur of faith is breathtaking to me. The immense stained glass windows filter the light into the interior, and I imagine I can see the dust of ages swirling in the upper reaches of the hall. The velvet ropes that guide us to our seats, the traditional sconces illuminating our way. I am silent as I try to take it all in.

I am distracted as I wander forward with the herd, until your hand tugging gently at me pulls me in another direction. I look around, and realize that you are pulling me towards the rear of the rows of seating for the service. The seats are curious, like a cross between wooden folding chairs and benches. We slip into one very near the back, and move to the center of the row.

You put your arm around my shoulder, and we chatter as we wait for the service to begin, pointing out this and that to each other.

Once the service is started, we listen for a while. I find Mass to be a wondrous ritual, although my mind wanders. First, I notice to myself that there is no one sitting near us. Everyone is much closer to the front. Then I glance over at your lap, and see that your excitement has not in the least diminished, which makes me blush and squirm a bit.

This catches your eye, and you look at me. I wink and look down, directing your eyes to my lap. As your eyes follow my directions down, you see my thighs rubbing gently together and my hand in my pocket pulls out a small plastic box of some sort. As my finger flicks across it and I move a bit more, my lips part to let out a small breath of air.

I smile as I see your eyes widen in recognition... the butterfly. I didn't tell you I was bringing it with me, and honestly I was almost busted when they searched our bags at the airport. Luckily the young man who searched mine understood it was meant to be a surprise.

Your face heats as you realize that you are watching me masturbate in a Catholic church, with people everywhere, in the middle of Mass. Sliding my thighs back and forth against each other, I slowly adjust the vibration of the butterfly up, bit by bit, until I can barely sit still. I actually look around, feeling the blood throbbing in my skull, amazed and gratified that no one seems to notice.

I know my face is flushed, I can feel the heat. My eyes are bright. Your hand steals to your own crotch, to touch and stroke yourself through your slacks. I can see your hard outline through the soft wool, and I turn up the vibrations one last time. Slipping the remote back into my pocket, I reach out for your free hand, and grasp it, holding tightly. My lower lips is caught between my teeth, and it draws your eyes for a moment before you slide them up to lock on mine.

Shaking so hard, I expect to hear the row rattling below us, I cum, clenching your hand in a vise-like grip as I shudder into orgasm. I am swept up in the enormous feelings inside me as I feel you lift me to my feet for the hymn. Neither of us sing in French, so we simply stand. Using your hand in mine for support, I manage to make it through the first song without my knees giving way.

During the second, I gather my wits about me again and straighten, reaching into my pocket to turn the butterfly off. As Mass ends, and everyone begins filing out, I lead you along, a sensuous strut swaying my hips before you. I feel you falling back a bit to take it all in and grin to myself.

I blink as my eyes adjust to the sunshine. They day has warmed, but the soft breeze keeps it from being too warm as we decide how to progress with our day. We left the hotel without stopping for breakfast to make the 8:00 am Mass, so we agree that some food is definitely in order.

We decide to walk the mile and a half back across the bridge towards the Latin Quarter and le Jardin de Luxembourg, our last stop today before some lunch and an afternoon meeting with our new French friends.

We find a lovely little sidewalk café to have a nice meal, and settle in to chat and do some serious people watching. As I am tucking into my Croque Monsieur, I see your eyes riveted by something, and turn to see what has drawn your attention. I see the backside of a well-dressed French lady in a snug skirt strolling by. A bit on the plump side with a tiny waist whittled away by the tailored clothes she is wearing, she offers a drool-worthy walking performance before she turns the corner.

I laugh, and you see that I have caught you out. You blush. I wink. I love that you love women. And I love that you are all mine, heart and soul. I blow you a kiss and get back to my meal.

We finish our stroll to le Jardin, and arrive just in time for one of the guided tours around the castle. I think perhaps our light meal has woken you. Throughout the entire tour, you brush up against me every chance you get, pushing your semi-hardness into my ass as we stand listening to one historical fact or another.

The surroundings inside the palace are luxurious, and I imagine you taking me in a multitude of ways over, on and under the many priceless antiques scattered about.

Honestly, it is certainly one of my favorite visits to a castle, ever, yet I don't think I remember a single fact as our tour is finished and we are set free into the gardens themselves.

We wander about, enjoying the day, playing touchy-feely and grab ass as the tension mounts. You have not yet had your release, and my pressure is building again. Something about this city... Oh, who am I trying to kid, it's you. I always have to fight to keep my hands off you no matter where we are.

I want you. I always want you. I try to stay sane as we meander, but the scent of you next to me is intoxicating.

As we reach the Fountain of Medici, You seem to have reached your limit. You pull me to you in a hard embrace, passionate and needy.

"I need you," you growl. "I have had enough of these gardens, we can come back, I need you now."

Then you kiss me. Your lips meet mine and sear into me, hot as a brand. Your tongue forces it's way between my teeth, claiming me for your desire. You know I can't resist you when you do that.

My head is spinning as you suckle at me, drinking me into you, pulling me tight, a hand on my ass pressing my pelvis tightly to yours as you grind into me. Your cock has sprung to full attention and I can feel it pushing into me, hard enough to leave a bruise and I don't care. I love it, your display of urgency. It sends a rush of heat flashing through me.

I drop to my knees, tearing myself from your arms. I have no patience to wait, I crave your cock in my mouth here, now.

Glancing furtively about, I see no one near. I know that you will do your best to warn me, but as you get lost in sensation, you would not notice if a herd of elephants were to walk by.

My fingers scrabble at your pants, and I reach in to free you into my waiting hands. So stiff, so full and throbbing already for me, you moan as I touch you, as the cool air washes over you.

As I lean down to slide you into my mouth, I am suddenly struck by the thought of how many hundreds of assignations, raw and carnal like this have taken place here. How many women willing to play the insatiable slut for their men have fallen to their knees in just this same position, for no reason but to please.

A hand tightens on my hair and I look up at you. My pink pouty lips are wrapped around your cock, sliding up and down as one hand holds you still for me. My other hand is curled around your hard thigh, following the movements of your hips.

Your eyes are hooded and your grin is desperate, even cruel as you slide into my mouth. Your hunger is a force of nature. Love has stepped away for a moment, and lust has stepped into her place. He uses me as his tool, and I welcome it.

I close my eyes to concentrate, shutting out the rest of the park, the risk of being caught. I give myself to the moment, drowning in the sensation of you thrusting into me over and over. I perform my act of repentance, my atonement for hours of teasing and torture.

As I feel your cock swell to bursting, My clit is assaulted by the butterfly on it's highest setting, making me moan around your girth. Feeling your head ramming into the back of my throat and my cries stifles as you grow yet again on my tongue. My hips buck and shake as my orgasm reaches its height just as you release your seed deep into me.

I swallow again and again, choking on the last bit and coughing as a small dribble runs down my chin. As your hand releases my hair, I pull back and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Standing, I lick the back of my hand clean, watching you putting yourself carefully away.

You look at me with a grin on your face, then reach forward to slip the purloined remote back into my pocket.

You pull me to you for a quick kiss when the sound of laughter nearly makes me jump from my skin. A small group of college-age tourists come around the fountain, chatting in German, maybe? Not sure, but my eyes catch yours and we laugh together knowing how close we were.

Sitting on the edge of the fountain, catching our breath, we plan the rest of our day. A bit more exploration of the garden, then lunch and a trip back to the hotel to freshen, then an evening out with our sexy new French friends.

Your eyes sparkle into mine as we discuss it. The amorous possibilities abound in Paris, The City of Love.