My name is Luke. I'm 24 years old, single, and travel solo for leisure at least twice a year. I head to France for a week vacation to explore Paris. As a solo traveler, I do what I can to stay within budget so that I'm not broke when I return home. As an example, I stay in hostels for lodging instead of hotels. Hostels are a very economical way to travel. They also provide people the unique opportunity to meet fellow travelers from around the world. Toward the end of my week, I decide to explore outside the city. One of the employees that runs the hostel I'm staying at gave me an address down the street to rent motor scooters at affordable daily rates. With a small backpack I carry with me everywhere I go, I head over to the rental place. I carry my wallet, phone, snacks and water. I pick up my scooter and head west leaving Paris.
It's a scenic ride once I leave the city rush hour ride into the outskirts. I don't have a destination in mind. I just want to explore. After a couple hours, I pull off the main road and find a side street that leads into a small village. The village is surrounded by mountains and sits in a valley. As I ride downhill into the village, I can see small homes, farms, and a large steeple in the center of the village. The side road I'm on takes me into the heart of the village. It's almost a ghost town with few people out and about. I ride by and a few locals wave at me as I wave back in return. I stop my scooter and park it next to a bakery. I built an appetite on the road and this looked like the only place in town that served food. I take a good look at the small establishment. It's two stories. The first floor is the bakery and the second floor looks to be residential. Most likely the owner of the bakery lives upstairs. I read the sign that hangs high over the doorway: "Boulangerie Olga."
The logo has bread and fruit next to the name on the sign. Knowing little to no French, I take out my phone to translate the name: "Olga's Bakery." I wouldn't have been able to guess that boulangerie is French for bakery. The only sentence I know in French happens to be that I don't speak French. I'm fortunate that most of the places I've been to so far during my week had people speaking English and their native language. However, in the middle of nowhere at least 70 kilometers outside of Paris, I honestly don't know if anyone speaks English. I make my way into the bakery and the smell of fresh croissants, chocolate, and cheese welcomes me.
"Bonjour!" Behind the counter, is a large mature French lady. She has a pan of fresh dough in her hands. She takes the pan and puts it inside a wood burning oven.
"Bonjour," I reply back to her making my way over to the counter to get a look at what to eat.
I don't see any menus but it looks like most of the items for sale are on display. The lady asks me a question in French.
"Desolé je ne parle pas Francais," I say telling her the only phrase I knew in French. The kind lady looks at me with a sympathetic smile.
"Ahh...English no good....food?" She has a thick accent that makes it hard for me to understand her limited English. I point at a croissant on display behind the glass that has ham, fresh cheese, spinach, and other veggies. I signal to her with my hands that I want two of those croissants with a glass of water. The kind lady smiles and gives me a thumbs up as she preps my order getting fresh croissants ready for me. I take a seat across from the ordering area. The seats are limited and the tables are small. The mature baker brings me a pitcher of water. With the water she also brings a complimentary cup of coffee.
"Merci," I say thanking her. She smiles at me and walks back to her baking area. And that's when I take a good look at her. I assume her name is Olga as that's the name of the bakery. Olga is a large, plump mature woman looking to be in her late sixties. She's short, standing at about 5'2 with a fat belly and rolls on her sides. She has short brunette hair with a hairnet on. Her breasts are at least DDDs and sagged due to how heavy her wonders are and age. I can tell she doesn't have a bra on. She wears a blue and purple blouse with an apron on over her. Olga's face is chubby with a double chin. She's sweaty and has baking flour on her arms, hands, and some on her face. Her face is slightly wrinkled but she's average looking.
What caught my attention as she walked away was her panties underneath her apron. She has a big fat ass that jiggles side to side each step she takes. Olga wears large granny panties with a pair of flip flops. There was something about her that turned me on. She's not physically attractive but the thought of getting down and dirty with this fat granny has my cock twitching in my pants.
Olga comes back out moments later with my food and says something to me in French with a smile. I assume it was something along the lines of "enjoy." I watch her make way back behind the counter with her monstrous ass swaying back and forth. She drives me crazy! In that moment, I knew I wanted her all to myself! I want to jump on her and lick every fold of her fat sweaty body and ram my cock deep inside her. Olga catches me eyeing her from her workstation. I can see a smile from the corner of her mouth as she takes fresh rolls out of the oven. I want her to see me lustfully stare at her. Something inside me tells me she's flattered being eye candy for me. Here I am, a young fit guy in my early twenties fantasizing about all the nasty things I can do to a fat granny in the middle of nowhere in a foreign country. She must want me too...right?
I mean, the way she's dressed! I get that it's hot and humid inside this little bakery with no air conditioning. But why the panties with no pants on? She's walking around in her underwear with a customer inside. Did she want to grab my attention? Does she have a husband or partner that satisfies her? Or maybe she's just the local village whore. Walking around in panties and no bra all day to give a man easy access to walk up and fully take advantage of her. All these thoughts cross my mind as I eat my delicious croissants. I didn't realize how hungry I was till I took that first bite! By the time I finish my plate, I decide I'm ready to take the chance and see if she's down to play with a young horny guy like myself. I mean, what's the worst that can happen if my plan fails? She screams and I'll get the hell out of here on my motor scooter in no time.
I wave for Olga to come to my table. She asks me in French if I want anything else (I assume). I then stand up and look down at her as I'm taller. I wrap my arms around her thick waist and grab the straps to her apron, untying them without any trouble. I reach below and I grope her ass, squeezing her cheeks. To my astonishment, Olga laughs. She pulls herself away from me and takes off her apron. She then rips off her blouse, exposing her large sagged breasts that plop down toward her belly. I take a good look at her upper body covered in rolls and belly fat. Her breasts have large areolas and thick nipples that are hard and stick out. Olga has a big smile on her face, watching me stare at her.
"Ahh?" She asks nonverbally seeking validation. I nod my head, taking my hands and reaching out to grab her breasts. I pick up her heavy wonders and begin to squeeze them. Olga stands laughing softly to herself as I play with each massive breast. I grab her left tit and try to stick as much of it in my mouth as I can while I squeeze her right tit with my other hand and use my pointer finger to play with her nipple. I then smash my face in between her breasts, continuing to squeeze them. I shake my head left and right between her breasts while I squeeze them. My tongue plays around getting a taste of Olga's cleavage. She's sweaty and tastes salty which drives me wild knowing she's filthy after a hard day of work.
I release my grip from Olga's breasts and decide that it's time to see what's under her granny panties she has on. I grab her hands and place them on the table. Olga bends her body over leaning on the table as I stand behind her and get a view of her ass. I press against her waist and kiss my way down her sweaty back and down to the jungle. I grab her panties with both hands and yank them down to her ankles in one motion. I'm hit with the aroma of her musky pussy while my face is close to her ass from behind. I take a good look at the jungle before my eyes. Her pussy lips are enlarged and have hair on the edges of her vaginal folds. Her hair goes down beneath her legs and up toward her pubic area with some hair near her dark asshole. I spread open Olga's legs and spit into her beaver.
