Chapter 159 - Flirtatious meeting soon leads to a random s.e.xy f.u.c.k

I just came right out with it, "Are you that guy from Made in Chelsea?"

I knew he wasn't. The thought had flitted across my mind when I noticed him at the meet and greet—the strong jaw and his great hair were similar. But his cheeky smile held more sincerity than that of Chelsea's love rat Spencer, who'd fuelled my many fantasies when I was alone with my glass dildo. As for this man's body—wow! I longed to run my hands over the firm plains of flesh which strained against his tailored shirt or the muscular curves his chinos did nothing to disguise.

"Sorry no." He smiled charmingly and his accent was the rich burr of a Scotsman. "I've never been to Chelsea. Or is that the name of a group? I'm a bit old school with my music."

I blushed, but it didn't matter that he wasn't Spencer. I'd broken the ice and grabbed the attention of the most handsome man in the room.

"It's a reality TV show," I explained. "Lots of rich young things who interact with each other at parties, coffee bars and glamorous locations. It's my guilty p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e." I swirled my white wine in its tall glass. "I'm Francesca by the way."

I extended my hand for him to shake. I hoped it wasn't obvious I was checking his left hand for a ring, or evidence that he ever wore one.

"Conrad," he batted back, his ice-blue eyes twinkling. "So you're a people watcher?"

"One hundred per cent!" I nodded, "Aren't you?"

"Well ye-es, but in a professional capacity."

"I'm a physio, so I assess people by their gait and their range of movement. When I'm treating patients I need to read their faces for any tells of discomfort."

My eyes lingered on his hands more overtly as he spoke. It would be a p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e to let him touch me, they looked strong and capable. I've got rather a thing about hands so I couldn't help imagining his fingers exploring more intimate areas of my body. When a tell-tale tingle began in my p.u.s.s.y, I pulled my attention back into the moment.

"Where do you work?" I asked and Conrad explained that he was in the process of setting up his own practice.

"What about you?" he asked. "What keeps you busy?" We both lifted some tiny canapes off a passing tray then moved onto the sun-dappled patio, away from the other guests.

"I'm a buyer; between jobs at the moment, on gardening leave. I thought I'd make the most of the time off, so I booked this tour rather last minute."

"It's my first time in France apart from skiing," he smiled. "This was a Christmas gift from my parents, who never know what to give me."

"Ahh, so you are a bit like Spencer!" I teased. "He loves snowsports—enjoys the après ski too!" I waggled my eyebrows. "Lots of opportunity for bed-hopping."

"He sounds quite a rogue, I'm not sure it's a flattering comparison."

"Oh, he has no morals at all, in the show. I'm not sure how much reality there is. They make the Chelsea set appear to fall in love, or turn on each other, pretty quickly!"

This girl was enchanting. As I listened to her discussing what I considered trash TV, I couldn't get enough of her words, her expressive hand movements or glimpses of those unfettered b.r.e.a.s.ts which swayed against the flimsy fabric of her c.o.c.ktail dress. I was determined to know her better. I hoped this tour would provide ample opportunities for us to be alone.

___

Francesca looked even more gorgeous the next morning. From across the hotel dining room, she seemed like a flower, colourful petals curving around a fertile, shadowy core. Her summer dress dr.a.p.ed her b.r.e.a.s.ts, hinting at the shape of her h.i.p.s, while its short flared skirt displayed long tanned legs. I admired her high heels which elongated the muscles in her calves, showing off her ankles and dainty pedicure.

Sipping a black coffee and toying with a croissant, our eyes met, and her face broke into a wide generous smile. I collected a fruit juice before moving to her table.

"May I?" I gestured at the empty chair opposite hers.

"Good morning Conrad! Of course, join me." Her cheeks dimpled with enthusiasm.

"How did you sleep? No sore head after last night?"

"Urgh!" she g.r.o.a.n.e.d. "I feel slightly over acquainted with whisky."

"I had a lovely evening, in charming company," I winked, "but it was necessary to educate you on the best drink in the world!"

"Oh so did I," she shook her head but regretted it. "I needed a couple of painkillers when I woke!"

Conrad looked even more handsome this morning—a little beard scruff suits him and that blue shirt enhances his eyes. I liked that he had a couple of buttons undone, catching glimpses of his c.h.e.s.t when it gaped had my n.i.p.p.l.es hardening. He was like a T-bone steak that I couldn't wait to sink my teeth into.

We talked and talked last night; the rest in our party melted insignificantly into the background as we discussed our passions, shared our hopes and flirted mercilessly. Like me, Conrad had been without a partner for a few months which made the electricity between us palpable. When he laid a hand on my leg, my creeping arousal dampened my silk knickers while my pulse had picked up.

I'll admit I played up my intoxication and leaned into him as we sat together, my b.r.e.a.s.t grazing his warm body. I found out he was toned from playing squash. When we eventually made the journey to our separate rooms, Conrad had wrapped a supportive arm around my waist before kissing me till I saw stars.

It was hard to sleep after that. I tossed and turned in the huge hotel bed, but finally resolved to soothe myself. I began by stroking my p.u.s.s.y lips, which had become puffy with d.e.s.i.r.e. Only a featherlight touch was needed to focus the trembling, pulses deep in the cleft between my legs. One cool exploratory finger found its way between my folds, then dipped to stroke my honeyed arousal upwards to coat the swell of my straining c.l.i.t. I sighed aloud. From there I knew all the moves to take myself to a happy ending.

I tried to hold back and edge myself. I pinched and pulled the dark nubs of my n.i.p.p.l.es, releasing bolts of p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e which raced to my c.l.i.t, soon my h.i.p.s were bucking and straining for more. I s.u.c.k.e.d on my juicy finger, savouring the musk and sweetness my body conjured up as lube. I wondered what Conrad would taste like, and imagined the warmth of his c.o.c.k against my lips. With dreams of his sticky, saline prec.u.m drooling in appreciation of my oral skills I began to finger f.u.c.k myself in earnest. With tightened legs and my pelvis tilted, I focused on creating a rotating pressure on my c.l.i.t and its hood. I strained eagerly towards release until an intense wave of p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e broke over me and left me gasping.

I studied Francesca's face. If she was listening to our guide describing the planned trip to a chateau which grows its own wine, she's a greater wine enthusiast than I'd grasped from our talks yesterday. Her lips were parted and her eyes had taken on a s.e.xy, faraway look. I was pretty sure she was without a bra again, which made me wonder about her b.r.e.a.s.ts. Are they firm with upward tilted n.i.p.p.l.es? My attention began to wander as I imagined drawing the tip of one into my mouth to nip and nuzzle it into an erect state.

Snap out of it Conrad, I had to chide myself. I had high hopes of getting Francesca alone somewhere during our tour of the vineyard. For that reason, I went commando under my jeans, but too much excitement on my part would have been very obvious to anyone who was looking.

"Have you been to a wine tasting before?" I asked her once our guide wrapped up her instructions by telling us to meet in the lobby in 20 minutes.

"No, you?" Francesca, got up, idly dusting flakes of croissant pastry on the tablecloth.

"I've been to a whisky tasting, which is probably similar. But you'd never spit the whisky out." We both laugh.

During our coach ride, we sat side by side. Conrad's denim-clad leg pressed against mine, making my dress ride up to expose my t.h.i.g.h, which I pretended not to notice. Our conversation grew risqué, so when he told me about a s.e.xy scavenger hunt which he and his friends played, I was completely up for it.

Our party disembarked from the coach and headed straight for the vineyard to beat the midday sun. The guide led the pack, calling out facts about gr.a.p.e varieties and naming good and bad years. Conrad and I were giggling, hanging back from the crowd so that we could kiss and touch surreptitiously. When our group was almost out of sight, we doubled back to the courtyard where the tour had begun.

I didn't care too much about the wine tasting, frankly. What I wanted a taste of was Francesca's sweet p.u.s.s.y, to lick and l.a.p, letting her nectar run over my tongue and down my chin. With that in mind, I was delighted to discover stone steps which led down to a gloomy storeroom, most likely a cellar where casks of wine were stored. We couldn't believe our luck to find some privacy, but we knew we had to make this quick.

Smiling, Francesca flipped up her skirt, showing me she was wearing the tiniest pair of black knickers. She slipped them off her h.i.p.s to deposit them on the bottom step, while I sank to my knees in front of her, nirvana within reach of my eager tongue and lips.

I could barely muffle my squeals of delight when he pressed his face to my p.u.s.s.y to begin nuzzling and lapping at my l.a.b.i.a, his tongue felt almost cool against the heat of my inner folds. Leaning back against the rough stone wall, I rested a hand on Conrad's shoulder to steady myself as he licked and s.u.c.k.e.d at the bud of my c.l.i.t. I was already horny from our dirty talk and kissing that my h.i.p.s began thrusting against his face.

I knew she wanted more from the way her honey slipped out of her. I spread her lips with my fingers to begin thrusting and rubbing deeper inside her. Her c.u.n.t tightened around my probing, making my d.i.c.k throb against my t.h.i.g.h. When she pulled on my chin, I rose to my feet and she kissed me. The way her tongue explored my mouth was dominant and exciting.

I could taste myself on his lips when we kissed. I rubbed the front of his jeans, my p.u.s.s.y craving more of him, so I plucked at the buttons of his shirt while Conrad unfastened his flies. He'd come prepared! When his n.a.k.e.d c.o.c.k sprang free from his jeans, he was ready for action. In response, I knelt at his feet and took it in my mouth. He was thick and firm, so I s.u.c.k.e.d l.u.s.tily, sliding my mouth up and down his length, never losing contact with its tip.

Conrad g.r.o.a.n.e.d aloud so I rose to my feet, pressing my finger to his lips to remind him of the need to be quiet. I rubbed my p.u.s.s.y tantalisingly against him as I pumped his length. But I wanted to ride him, so we swapped positions again—me backed against the wall with Conrad aiming the head of his big c.o.c.k, which was drooling with prec.u.m, at my very wet hole.

Lifting Francesca's leg I wrapped it around my t.h.i.g.h and she complied enthusiastically, knowing it gave me better access to her p.u.s.s.y. Gripping her h.i.p.s I guided her pelvis into my thrust, and we began to bump and grind. We kept our voices low, but her little gasps and m.o.a.ns as my c.o.c.k claimed her p.u.s.s.y and stimulated her g-spot fuelled my fire and drove me to thrust deep into her for satisfaction. I loved how she climbed me like a tree, her lithe leg wrapped around me with her high heeled shoe pressed into my arse.

It was exciting to feel like rutting animals. Our need to be quick and furtive sharpened my p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e and I clutched Conrad ecstatically. I tried not to m.o.a.n too loudly, although normally I'd be quite vocal during s.e.x. On this occasion, my body did the talking. I looked into his eyes before letting him slip out of me. Then I turned around, inviting him to take me from behind by spreading my cheeks apart.

I love d.o.g.g.y style, but not every girl wants to do it. Francesca, however, now bent at the waist, parting her b.u.t.t for me to slip in from behind. What a peach of a backside she had, I was enjoying the s.e.xy view while I thrust inside her, deep and slow.

My shirt was hanging off my arm, while Francesca's dress was bunched at her waist. No-one had discovered us yet, and all was quiet above us in the courtyard, so I decided to take one more risk and move things onto the stairs.

When we moved, I pushed Conrad under me and straddled his pelvis to ride a c.o.c.k horse. I tried not to giggle as I remembered that old nursery rhyme, but as I writhed and undulated against his delicious erection, any thoughts not about my impending climax flew out of my head. Our breathy exclamations of passion echoed off the rough stone walls. I bent my head to kiss him on the lips, our tongues once more teasing each other in a dance. My climax began drawing together messages from every erogenous zone in my body, a tingling force which built-in my extremities and exploded within my core.

She was grinding on me hard and fast, and I sensed Francesca was close to coming. She threw back her head, exposing her elegant neck. Her long blonde hair rippled down her back, tickling her skin, while l.u.s.t rendered me barely conscious of the edges of those cold stone steps which pressed into my back. My focus was on the soft curves of the beautiful woman in front of me, enthusiastically bobbing and gyrating on my prick, intent on hunting down her p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e.

When she began to gasp and buckle, I felt her climax as vice-like throbs around my own tumescence. It was my turn to set the pace, so I held her by the waist and began thrusting up into her, to which she responded. She rose and fell in a building rhythm, the jiggle of her pert b.r.e.a.s.ts in front of my face enhanced the experience enormously.

I could hardly keep quiet, as Conrad's c.o.c.k pierced me over and over, prolonging and adding piquancy to the receding waves of my o.r.g.a.s.m. My body welcomed the stretch of his thrusts and I squeezed my pelvic muscles to massage him and better appreciate his girth.

She subdued her gasps, but pretty soon they were marking the ripples of a second climax. I'd held back my own to coincide. Finally, I released my load into her in pulsing bursts which turned me inside out.

The unmistakable chatter of voices became audible in the courtyard above us, so with barely time to catch our breath, she lifted herself off my wilting c.o.c.k. Our commingled juices dripped from her p.u.s.s.y, which is always a delectable sight, but we were already scrambling to retrieve our discarded clothes. Our sneaky f.u.c.k had been glorious, it would definitely qualify for the s.e.xy scavenger hunt, but it was time to make a swift exit.

Pulling ourselves back to a presentable state, we kept glancing at each other like naughty school kids. Conor's whispered promise to massage my gluteals later just made me giggle. As I grabbed my cardigan off the step behind us, a clatter sounded from the gloom of the cellar as something fell over. Had we truly been alone, or had someone watched us from the shadows the whole time?