I’d done her a solid. Gave her my extra Beyoncé ticket after my girl bailed. Her folks hated our hookups. She was grateful. Invited me over for ‘collation.’ Her apartment next door. Simple place. Knocked at 3 PM sharp. Hallway dim. Light slits under doors. Neighbors napping maybe.
Waited in small salon. Framed nudes on walls. One chick bare-assed. Stirred my cock. She swished in. Dress rustling like whispers. Offered hand. ‘Do you know baise-main?’ Thought: fuck her hand? Sure. Dropped pants. Slid down briefs. Grip my shaft. Stroke slow. Heart thumps. Parquet creaks under feet. She watches. Eyes hungry. ‘Don’t finish,’ she says. Zipped up. Hot herb water. Dry cookies. Chatted. ‘Orlando, call me Noémie. Next week, friends help you finish.’ Tits heaving in her top. Agreed. Cochon qui s’en dédit.
The Contact
Told my girl no visit. ‘Baise-main tomorrow.’ She sulks. ‘Like with Mom?’ Slammed door.
The Indiscretion
Wednesday. Freshly showered. Cock scrubbed. Big salon now. Noémie and five frilly bitches. Youngish. Lilac scent thick. Nude pics everywhere. Men too. Sat in circle. Me center. ‘Baise-main!’ Pants down. Cock out. Stroke firm. Silence heavy. Shaft swells. Red. Twitches. Eyes bore in. Floor groans as I shift. Can’t cum. Close eyes. Open. Panties at ankles. Wet slits gleam. Pussies shaved, bushy. Boom. Grunt low. Balls tighten. Rope after rope. Splats on plastic sheet. Saved her rug. They clap soft. Muffled. Towels warm. Wipe sticky mess. Beers? Nah. Tea again.
Girl shows up later. Sniffing. ‘Mom explained baise-main.’ ‘Wanna one?’ ‘Tired.’ She storms. Gone forever.
The Indiscretion
The Silence
Coiffeur next day. Magazine. Macron kisses queen’s hand. Elegant peck. Rage boils. Berné. Lost girl.
Next Wednesday. Pound door. Hallway echoes faint. Big salon. Ten dames. Proper baise-mains. Lips brush skin. Cold stares. Noémie pulls aside. ‘Don’t be mad. They came far. Panties down first?’ Grins. She nods. Whispers to pack. Nine skirts up. Panties pooled at heels. Check cunts. Fingers probe. Smooth lips. One strings. Blushes. Rips it off.
All clear. Zip down. Cock springs. Kick plastic. Flies to window. Light filters blinds. Golden slits on tits. Chugged beers pre-game. Bladder full. Aim stream. Piss arcs. Soaks Persian rug. Steamy yellow flood. Splashes nude frames. Drips down walls. They squirm. Panties snag heels. Can’t chase. Twisting ankles. Muffled yelps. Door slams behind me. Stairwell creaks. Heart hammers. Neighbor peeks out. ‘All good?’ Nod. Grin. Secret burns. Cock twitches in pants. Filth next door. Neighborhood sleeps on.