Je T'aime (I Love You)

Home-schooling has its advantages. For one, I have more control over my curriculum. Which means that as of today, I have already earned all the credits I need to graduate and can pretty much do whatever I want.

I decide to seriously pursue French, which will complement the International Relations degree I plan on earning. When I was young, I wanted to be a nurse like my mom. But then I was selected to participate in the Model United Nations Conference in New York City. For a week, I served on the UN Economic Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean (ECLAC) proudly representing Ecuador.

I blaze through an online course then convince my parents that I need to study with a full-time native speaker. We try various websites but have no luck finding what I need. No matter, my dad comes to the rescue--he makes reservations at our favorite Bistro.

The owner greets us the way he always does; however, this time I surprise him with my newfound skill. He is delighted. After dinner (I went with the chicken confit -- yummo!), he brings over a coffee press and once he's poured our cups my dad broaches the subject.

While the owner ponders, I nervously chase the last remaining bite of dessert around my small plate. Then he smiles and tells us to wait right here. He disappears into the kitchen and is soon back with exciting news.

The chef has a cousin, who will be in town for a few months while he endeavors to secure a job at a university. Anyway, they just spoke on the phone... and if the particulars can be worked out, then I'll have my very own fulltime, dedicated teacher.

A few days later an interview is scheduled at our house. My heart flutters when the doorbell rings, then my mom tells me to go to my room, that they will call me down if he's a good fit. I try to protest (like shouldn't I be included from the start?) but my mom responds cryptically, "we just want to make sure it's not his eyes making this decision for him, now do what I say!"

I scamper upstairs. Time seems to crawl... then I hear my dad calling my name. I bound down the steps, then whirl into the kitchen to meet the well-dressed and quite-handsome (debonair!) Monsieur Darroze. He smiles, I notice he has kind eyes...

French Lessons

Learning a foreign language is challenging. To do so one-on-one with an instructor, 7 hours a day... binds the two of you intimately together. Not right away... it sneaks up on you...

We've only been together a month now but already I find myself living in two completely different worlds: my regular humdrum / my vibrant existence, where I am constantly discovering exciting new things--and this world has a population of just 2 souls... but it is thriving.

Monday-Thursday follows a similar pattern. 9am: we go over my homework while having breakfast, 10 am: grammar lesson, 11 am: reading, noon: vocabulary, 1 pm: conversational hour over lunch, 2 pm: current events, 3 pm: quiz & new homework.

Today is Friday though! Which means less structure and I get to pick and choose what we do. Earlier in the week, I had sketched out the day's events... so when I arrive, he is ready to go. Breakfast hour is all about him showing me how to make crepes. Not as easy as it looks... but he's a great teacher and soon I have the technique down.

Next, we move to all-things Football (soccer). I practically know nothing about the subject but it's clear to me that he is a huge fan. We change into shorts & t-shirts then head outside into the back yard.

We kick the ball around a bit; he shows me how to use the side of my foot so I'll have more control. Then he explains the header and we run a drill where he tosses the ball up at me and I smack it with my head. He laughs the whole time...

Okay, time for me to jog around his backyard a bit to build my endurance; he'll be right back. I feel like I'm about to drop by the time he returns with a pitcher of Iced Tea. It's so refreshing, not like anything I've had before. I ask and he explains it's black tea with honey, lemon, orange, vanilla, and mint--voila!

Finally, what I've been looking forward to most: he sets up an actual net and we take turns trying to make goals. He's so incredibly talented... I do manage to make a couple myself though!

Back inside, he tells me all about the French National Team and how they had just won the World Cup last year. He ushers me into the living room, turns on the TV and soon we are watching the final championship match (France vs Croatia) that he had actually taped on VHS. (I didn't even know you could do that.)

As the game begins he gives me a little background on all the players--I immediately choose #10 (Kylian Mbappe) as my champion. France scores the first goal then Croatia answers but then soon thereafter a penalty is called and France gets like a free kick against just the goalie and I'm on my feet screaming when the ball sails into the net to give France a 2-1 lead.

In the second half, doesn't take France very long to go up 3-1... but then, what I've been waiting for the whole game finally happens--a sudden pass to Mbappe and he is far away from the goal... but no hesitation, he kicks and it's like a canon just went off and the ball curves and goes right into the left corner of the net. I lose my mind and as we both come to our feet, I just fling myself up at him--and now my arms are up and over his shoulders while my legs are wrapped tightly around his waist. And he is jumping in a circle and I am bouncing up and down against him.

That's when it happens, like I suddenly feel this ache... down there... and my legs involuntarily squeeze him even tighter and even though he is now done with his celebration and is standing still... I continue to rub myself against him.

I have like literally glued myself to him... so he'd have to practically peel me off. He remains motionless... then a moan escapes my mouth directly into his ear. He gives me a shake.

I pull back to look him in the eyes--one thing is for sure immediately clear to him: though he hadn't done anything untoward, he had nonetheless awoken a hunger within me that had long laid dormant. I press my lips urgently against his...

He doesn't stop me but clearly isn't exactly reciprocating. Then he carries me over to his desk... I never break my kiss.

As soon as my butt is securely on the edge of his desk, I release his neck so I can grasp the sides of the desk in order to keep my balance. My ankles remain locked. I lean back, shoot him a look that I hope telegraphs how much I want this intimate togetherness to continue.

But instead of pouncing, he gently pulls me back into a sitting position and soon we are conversing in French again and the transition is so smooth that my feelings aren't hurt in the least. Eventually I just naturally crawl off the desk like nothing had ever happened.

Still, the final hour is becoming so excruciating because I still have this ache because something had happened. I had just kissed a real man; what else did I want to do with him? I remind him my mom will be here soon and is it okay if I use his shower real quick... because I'm still sweaty from our soccer practice.

He ponders then says the guest room has a connecting bathroom... so from here on out, I can consider those to be my rooms. I give him the biggest smile and thank him profusely before heading upstairs.

As soon as the door closes behind me, I hop on the bed and my hand now slides down my gym shorts and I begin to touch myself--finally! When I can no longer resist, I strip down to my underwear and begin to energetically hump my pillow as I lick the back of my hand. Remy, Remy!

I keep kissing him and riding him until I reach the heavens... then my entire body spasms... and... I have the most profound experience of my life.

I quickly shower then change back into my normal clothes. Then there's an awkward wait until my mom picks me up.

During the ride home, my mom asks if I'm feeling alright because my face is all flush. She would've been shocked if she knew the truth-- masturbation is a sin. But if she knew the reason for my pent-up lust was a man at least twice my age... she would've surely crashed the car.

Samantha

Early the next morning I call my next-door neighbor. We've been kinda friends for years, though she's older and went to the public school. My parents have never really liked her. One time, I heard my mom explaining to my dad that there was no way I was going to be allowed to go to the party I had been invited to. "That girl is a bad influence, only a matter of time before she gets knocked-up."

I explain that I'm in over my head here and really need her help. There's this guy... and he's the only thing I can thing about... but that I've never even had a boyfriend before. But, he's no boy... like he's at least twice my age... and I kissed him but he didn't like take it seriously.

Sam listens sympathetically then says she can help me if I'm sure... I gush, "he's the one."

Sam tells me all about her first time... that maybe it wasn't exactly mind-blowing but still, it was very special. They were young and didn't even have a clue as to what they were doing... and it didn't last that long.

I ask so many questions... she patiently answers... clearly, I have been sheltered. I tell her more about my Remy... how I feel when I'm around him and--

She cuts me off. "Look, just get over here already." I leave a note for my folks then head next door.

She tells me to leave my--what are those? Hiking boots? --at the door, then Sam leads me into her bedroom. We sit down in front of her make-up table. She tells me to study my face, I don't know where this is headed but I listen. Then I'm handed her high school yearbook: "leaf through those class photos there and tell me what you think."

I study then tentatively offer up an answer, "well, I can see they are all wearing make-up... and... I'm not. But I didn't know... nobody ever told me."

Sam: "Right... you're getting warm. Look, most girls need make-up... but not you... you are a natural beauty."

I just stare at her, no idea what to say. Thankfully she interrupts the awkward silence with the answer: "You're prettier than all of those girls... but you don't know... because you've never really been out in the real world. The truth is... you are adorable."

Me? No, like I'm sure she's just trying to make me feel better. But then she begins to be brutally honest with me to the point where I know she's not trying to protect my feelings.

Sam: "But, look at you... no sense of style whatsoever. Even today... are those cargo shorts? Plus, why are your socks pulled all the way up like that? Are you afraid to show even a little leg? And what's up with that baggy top? Do you even have breasts?"

Her observations sting... a tear rolls down my face.

Sam: "Trust me, I am going to help you."

She takes my hand and leads me into her bathroom so we can stand before the double-sink and gaze into the large mirror. A minute passes... maybe two... then Sam crosses her arms and grabs the hem of her shirt and lifts it over her head in one fluid motion and lets it drop to the ground.

I have no words; she is now totally topless and her breasts are staring back at me from the mirror. I realize how truly beautiful she is... then begin to understand why no man would be interested in me.

Sam steps behind me... reaches around and begins to unbutton my top. I freeze... like the paralyzing kind... then she pulls my shirt back over my shoulders and tosses it aside.

Sam: "Okay, seriously? Even my grandmother wouldn't be caught dead wearing a bra like that."

Then I feel her struggling at my back until it's completely unclasped and she lets it fall into the sink right in front of me. I'm embarrassed and go to cover up with my hands; she pulls me arms back to my sides.

Sam (whistling with approval): "Those are about the nicest tits I've ever seen... and trust me, I was a cheerleader."

Me: "No, they are... too small."

She stands behind me and reaches out to cup my breasts...

Sam: "Listen to me, bigger isn't always better. Let me tell you what I see. You have perky, playful tits... perfectly drawn areolas... the color is a delicious, delicate pink... and look at how your nipples capture the eye--they are like ripe berries."

I'm now instantly blushing; finally, I mumble "thanks."

She stands next to me again and begins to hop up and down so I can watch her breasts bounce. They are mesmerizing. Then she tells me it's my turn... and I shyly give it a go but even that's enough--I understand what she wants me to see.

Sam: "Okay, don't chicken out now. We're not done yet."

Then her shorts are tossed aside and I see that she is fully naked. My eyes grow wide when I notice how smooth her body is... like all over... then she turns to show off her behind.

I'm transfixed... then without warning she is tugging at my pants and soon I am also naked. She takes my hand and makes me twirl around so she can see what she is dealing with.

Sam: "Okay, let's start with the positives: your bubble butt--god, I just want to squeeze those cheeks!"

And then she does... facing me now, her arms wrap around my waist and each of her hands grabs one of my butt cheeks and she begins to squeeze and knead them. I must admit that I enjoyed the compliment.

Sam: "Let's get to the negatives... first we are going to shave your legs. Next, we are going to have to seriously shape up that bush."

Me: "We do?"

Sam: "Oh yeah, trust me... that's not a good look. And guys don't want to go down on that."

Me: "Go down?"

Sam: "Do you know anything?"

Me: "My mom hasn't told me nothing, I just figured it all falls into place on your wedding night."

Sam (tilts her head, like she's genuinely confused): "Doesn't matter... I'm your big sister now and you can count on me."

Next, she runs a bath for me... and I soak while she tells me all about the ways to capture a man's attention. She grabs one of my ankles and pulls my leg straight up out of the water and rests it on her shoulder. A pink can squirts pink foam and after slathering it all over my leg, she dips a pink razor into the bath, then begins to shave my entire leg. I watch her every move.

Now it's my turn... I raise my other leg and prop it against the wall... then I apply the cream and carefully shave short strips, followed by a dunk of the razor into the tub, then a few more strokes. When I'm finished, it's time to really get down to business--I stand with my feet spread far apart.

Sam uses a pair of small scissors and jokes the whole time about my wild, untamed wilderness... then when my hair has been trimmed, she carefully razors-away everything except a small patch above my... you know.

Sam: "They call that a 'landing strip' (giggles) it's like a runway... that will lead a plane into your terminal (giggles some more)."

I blush again and just shake my head in disbelief. Then it's into her large walk-in closet to pick out some sexy clothes.

Me: "No need wasting our time... my mom drives me there & back... no way she'd let me wear anything provocative."

Sam: "Don't be silly. You carry with you, change when you get to his house, change back before you head home. Mom does not need to know anything, nor do you need her approval."

I find myself nodding in agreement--Sam is wise, indeed. It takes a minute but soon she has put together several ensembles for me. I try one on, literally gasping as I look in the mirror.

Sam: "It's a simple white halter top, no bra... to really highlight your breasts and show off your bellybutton. A mini-skirt... remind me to give you a pair of pink satin panties... and then sandals which show off your pretty feet."

Me: "I don't know how to thank you. Like this is awesome and you've been amazing."

Sam (winking at me): "Just keep in touch with all the developments."

The Following Week

Monday comes and I chicken out. Tuesday is a repeat. I call Sam, she gives me much-needed encouragement.

Sam: "Trust me, he's more afraid of you then you are of him."

Me: "Afraid? Of... me? Why?"

Sam: "Look, it's the way men are hardwired... first, they think about sex all the time. So, your teacher has surely already fantasized about taking you every which way."

Me: "Taking me... where?"

Sam: "You know... like fucking you. He must think about that all the time. In fact, I bet as soon as you leave his house, he is jerking himself silly."

Me: "That's crazy talk... he's like older... very professional."

Sam: "Uh-huh. Look, you just put that outfit on and flirt with him... be yourself... but like more confident than you usually are."

The next day, I am finally ready...

As I enter his house, I hear him holler from the kitchen--he is already making our breakfast. I duck into my guest bedroom to change into my steamy outfit. I look in the mirror and give myself a pep talk. Then I take a deep breath and walk to him.

Me: "Bonjour, Monsieur Darroze."

He turns... then, dumbstruck, he drops the spatula he is using to make our quiche onto the floor. I can see he is clearly embarrassed, then he regains his composure. He picks up the spatula, rinses it off in the sink, and goes back to tending the frying pan.

I take my seat at the table then, with his back still turned to me, I slide my spaghetti straps down, then wiggle until my breasts are fully on display. After he has plated our meal, he turns and approaches. I watch his eyes; his eyes are glued to my chest.

We make small talk as we eat... gravity becomes my friend and soon my nipples are clearly the only thing holding my top up. He doesn't exactly know what to say, how would he bring this to my attention anyway? I just keep smiling and acting oblivious but his eyes are now clearly betraying him. This is a first for me... and I begin to enjoy my newfound power.

I compliment him on the meal, he smiles then begins to clear the table as I head into the living room to prepare for the morning lesson. I put my top back into place but after sitting, I pull my already-short skirt up even higher so that he'll have a nice view of my girly, pink, satin panties.

He takes the seat opposite me. I watch his eyes; his eyes are focused between my legs. I launch into my book report. (okay, I read a children's book... but there were some difficult words!) His eyes bounce up and down the entire time. I finish, he doesn't respond... I clear my throat, he snaps out of his daze to say, "well done."

We conjugate verbs -- future tense. I continuously bend this way and that to hold his attention to where it needs to be. Next up: I pull out my writing book. He says a sentence then I write it down. A couple pages later, we are finished but instead of handing him my tablet I walk over then kneel down in front of him. He stares at me; I offer up my work.

He skims my translations... then nods with approval. "Nicely done."

I remain on my knees, innocently looking up at him while bending forward. He stays seated, with a fixed-gaze down my shirt.

I insist on making lunch -- my specialty: the croque monsieur (basically a fancy grilled ham and cheese sandwich). The tantalizing scent of thyme wafts throughout the kitchen. I can see he is already being swayed... then I drop (okay, I tossed it) my turner utensil.

I walk over, turn so he has a full view of my backside... then I slowly bend down. My skirt rises--I can't see him, but I know--he is now staring at the small gap between my upper thighs... and the pink fabric barely concealing my flower bud.

Yeah, another move that Sam had taught me.

He has a voracious appetite and makes all kinds of appreciative noises. I ask for a grade; he says that was an A+ effort. We return to the living room.

We go over the latest from French newspapers (Le Monde, Le Figaro, La Croix). The Yellow-Vest demonstrations against President Macron are continuing; the police are responding with tear gas and arresting scores of protestors.

Then it's time for my vocab test, which I ace, then I'm given my homework assignment for the night. We make small talk... then I remember my Friday plans and I tell him the motif will be French Cinema. Oh, and I'll be bringing a movie for the afternoon.

Thursday: I decide to go easy on him today. I don't dress provocatively and I don't flirt. I want him to see the difference so he can decide which me he most prefers! Plus, Sam had explained that if he gets too worked up today then he might not be in peak form tomorrow. "Sex is like an athletic sport... so don't wear the poor guy out before the main event." Yeppers, that makes sense to me.

Friday finally arrives. I play it cool during the morning session; however, as soon as he starts to prepare lunch, I strip naked and put on just a single item--a strapless, formfitting mini-dress in sage, that really brings out my eyes.

The material is thin and it hugs my body like a glove. It is also extremely short... so short that as I enter the room, he sees that my tan line is right above my knees and then it's pure, innocent, creamy-white smooth skin all the rest of the way up my visible thighs and, surely, continuing on the small bit of distance still hidden from his view.

While he prepares our plates, I switch spots at the table, so my back is now to the kitchen. This is the first time I've ever sat in his chair but if he's surprised, he doesn't mention it.

I devour my salad... but then just pick at my Dijon chicken... it's beyond tasty, but I have a big game coming up and don't want to eat too much. We make small-talk, he seems nervous. I excuse myself from the table then walk to the cupboard to get a small glass. They are up high... so I have to stretch and go way up on my tippy-toes. I take ahold of the shelf so I can maintain my balance, then freeze like a statue for him.

I'm hoping he is enjoying the view; from my bare feet, up my flexed calves, the thin delicate line behind my knee, all the way up my thighs to my underbutt before finally arriving at my rounded ass, the lower part of which is now exposed.

When I reach my breaking point, I grab a small glass... I stop at his refrigerator on the way back to fill it with cold milk before returning to the table.

Me: "Where are my manners? Would you also like a glass of milk?"

He slowly nods his head 'yes' and manages to say the word 'please.'

As I walk back, I wiggle my ass the whole way... then again open the cupboard. There's another but it is further back... I move my right knee up and perch it on the counter. And this time, as I move upwards, he is treated to an even lovelier view... one that makes it clear I'm not even wearing any panties.

I hand him his glass; he immediately drinks all of the cold milk before I even have a chance to sit back down. I ask if he wants more. He says that, no he's fine now. I'm not sure he is though... seems more than a bit flustered.

After the table has been cleared, we sit down so I can tell him all about "MILF," the sex comedy directed by Axelle Laffont. He doesn't know it.

Me: "Well, it came out last year and was her directorial debut and it's all about these 3 women in their 40s who vacation in the French Riviera... and there they find 3 guys in their 20s and then they have summer flings."

Him (incredulous): "So... so that's the movie we are going to watch today?"

Me: "No, no... it was okay but I'm not sure you'd like it."

Him (relieved): "Oh, okay. So... what are we going to watch then?"

Me: "I would like to tell you all about "Ascenseur pour I'echafaud (Elevator to the Gallows). It was directed by Louis Malle and starred Jeanne Moreau... oh, and the great Jazz trumpeter, Miles Davis, played the music."

Him: "Excellent movie."

I go on for half an hour, telling him all about the movie. If nothing else, he should be impressed that I watched it -- it's in black & white!

Him: "So, this is our movie?"

Me: "Ahhh, no. So I spent some time at the library this past weekend... and I found "L'Amant (The Lover)" which came out in 1992--before I was born! --but it won all kinds of awards."

Him (stunned): "L'Amant?"

Me: "Yeah, it is about a young French girl... about my age... growing up in Saigon. She meets a much older Chinese man and they fall in love. Anyway, it's a true story... I haven't watched all of it yet (I'm lying) but the cinematography is amazing plus it won all kinds of international awards."

The real reason I picked it: shortly after we had met, my teacher triumphantly announced who I've been reminding him of -- a young Jane March. Anyway, I had no idea who she was... he said she was a French actress... so, obviously I researched her on the internet like immediately. Next time I was at the library I ran through their foreign film section and found the movie.

Oh, plus there's lots of nudity and there are several really SIZZLING HOT sex scenes... One more confession: I almost asked Sam to braid my hair into pigtails, exactly like the actress... but maybe that would've been going too far?

He doesn't respond... just kinda stares off into space.

While whatever thoughts running through his head continue to percolate, I give a complete rundown of French movies that have either won or been nominated for Academy Awards (category: Best Foreign Language Film).

He nods his head here and there as I go down my list.

When I mention "Amelie" he says he has that one in his collection if I would rather watch that movie. I tell him that I adore Audrey Tautou so much that I must've seen that movie a dozen time already. He understands...

Next, I discuss French Actors/Actresses at some length... then it's time. I tell him to run upstairs and change into "something more comfortable" while I make us some popcorn.

Doesn't take long to microwave popcorn... and now I'm counting the seconds, praying that he has not locked himself inside his room. He eventually comes down... wearing sweatpants and a casual pullover shirt. I smile then motion towards the living room with my head; he takes the lead.

He sits not exactly on the extreme right side of the couch but close enough... not sure if he is trying some mental trick so I sit more towards the far-left side? If so, doesn't work... I sit down to his immediate left... like our legs are touching. I place the bowl of popcorn directly onto his lap... then reach in with my bare hand to stir a bit before grabbing a fistful. Not sure if he could feel that or not... but the visual would've been very suggestive, if nothing else.

I hop up... turn off the lights... then return to my spot before hitting the play button on the remote. As the movie begins, I noisily wolf down my popcorn then my hand is back in the bowl on his lap... clearly searching for something.

About 15 minutes into the movie... we get to the ferryboat scene--one of my favorites. I must've watched this a dozen times but something I notice now, that escaped my attention before... when the Chinese man offers her a cigarette, if you focus on the gold case, you'll see his hand is visibly shaking... then after she politely declines, he has trouble even lighting his own. There is definitely a dynamic at play here that I've totally missed before; he is rich and powerful but she is actually in control from the start.

Sam is right... I need to steer things.

By the time the young girl has accepted a ride in his chauffeur-driven car... and they begin their trip into town, I've whisked the popcorn bowl away... so I'll have no obstacles.

The tension in the car builds... she places a hand on the seat, the man eventually works up the courage to move his closer & closer until their pinkies touch. I reach over and place my hand directly over his. He doesn't resist... I wait a bit, then almost imperceptibly, my thumb begins to move back and forth over his knuckles. I feel pure electricity...

I time my next move so that just as their fingers finally interlace, I've moved his hand to my knee. Then, as the car glides down the road in the lush, green woods, I slide his hand further up my smooth thigh. He doesn't resist. It's a short scene but by the time it's over, I have managed to guide his hand all the way up to the hem of my mini-dress. I have goosebumps and am already having trouble breathing.

As the car pulls to a stop, we see that the girl is also firmly holding the man's hand in her lap... she says her goodbyes and exits the vehicle. I'm not going anywhere.

The movie plays, eventually I work up the courage to release his hand, trusting he won't pull it away. I put my arm around his neck and rest my head on his shoulder.

The tension continues to build; on the screen and in our room. A slow rotation of his hand and now his fingers are hanging down and gripping my inner thigh. I let out a soft moan of encouragement. His hand responds and he begins to stroke my tender flesh.

I suddenly begin to feel warm... the Chinese Man and the young girl have decided to become lovers... now it's time for us to make our decision.

He continues his ministrations, my left foot moves to the coffee table in front of us, finds a perch then I rise up and roll my lower body towards him. My left thumb hooks inside my dress, deep between my cleavage... and then I pull downwards so both of my breasts pop out the top. Thankfully I don't have to beg, he senses what I need and he pivots so his dominant hand is now between my legs and his mouth is hungrily exploring my chest.

A couple more twirls then he inserts a finger inside my wet femininity. I gasp aloud so he inserts a second finger. I shudder then throw my head back and let the waves wash over me as his fingers completely explore my womanhood and his magical tongue begins flicking my hard nipples, causing shockwaves to radiate out in every direction.

The feelings are indescribable... they build then build some more...

Monsieur Darroze is soon squeezed between the couch and coffee table... and I am on my back, my right leg up over the sofa, my left down so my foot is touching the floor. I watch as he teases me with just the tip of his tongue--pure electricity radiates out from my core in all directions.

He begins to kiss and lick... all the while whispering French... I catch words like pink and flower and then my knees come together around his head and he is now slurping and sucking and the fact that I can barely move only adds to my anguish.

It's like I'm on a rollercoaster ride... being pulled slowly upward... and I'm strapped in and held secure... my pleasure builds... I watch as his hands further part my lips. I hold my breath and my body is now vibrating; I throw back my head...

His tongue is now focused on a single point... and his touch is slow and gentle... but unrelenting--I reach the top of the big drop... I can already sense that I am about to be subjected to forces I won't be able to withstand.

Even still, I literally beg, "don't stop, don't stop!"

He doesn't... just continues with his light jabs. And then I scream out, not in English, not in French... some animalistic sound. His entire mouth now surrounds my tingly area and I feel him bathing me with his warm saliva.

My whole body is straining... my toes curl... I take a deep breath then hold... then I explodes into pieces. I collapse... and can barely catch my breath. His tongue flicks me again; too much sensation, I pull his hair and tell him he must stop unless he wants to kill me!

I slowly return to earth... and my senses... I feel completely relaxed.

Remy puts me back together so he can slide up and lie next to me on the couch. His expression is one I've never seen before.

I whisper, "J'ai envie de te faire l'amour maintenant." (I want to make love to you now.)

His thumbs move to my face and begin tracing. I repeat myself in case he missed it. He says that we don't need to rush. He wants to take his time and map out every inch of me, starting with my face.

Him: "Your freckles are lovely and, like stars in constellations, they must be studied. How they are arranged on your face in alignment with the gravitational pull of... of your emerald green eyes."

I blush and turn my face to the side.

Him: "Please look at me."

I obey...

Him: "Your eyes... the first thing I noticed about you. Pure and utter intoxication."

I suddenly sense his longing... and I slide my hand down his pants in search of his manhood. It is hard and I feel it twitch as I wrap my fingers around him. I've never even seen a penis before, let alone handled one. I beg him to show me what to do.

He reaches his hand down to grasp mine... then we begin to move together... up and down... while never breaking our gaze. I can see the effect on his face; his pleasure is surely building. Then he releases my hand... and I'm in total control... and I vary my grip and my speed as I watch his reactions.

I feel so alive!

Then I know he belongs to me... I've discovered the perfect combination... and then he is hanging in the air... with his head back and eyes closed. I up both the intensity of my grip and the speed of my stroking.

He screams out, "Jocelyn" as I feel his first spasm. I know he doesn't want me to stop; I push and I pull... and he says my name over and over again... and his manhood continues to lurch until my entire hand is coated in his stickiness.

I slow down then come to a halt... his hardness fades away... I continue to play with his soft member. He laughs... says that now I'm trying to kill him.

I retrieve my hand... not sure what to do now... his clothes? ... no, seems wrong. Then instinctively I am rubbing his fluid over my breast... he watches with fascination... then I flip my hand and begin to paint my stomach with his essence.

I nap peacefully, he holds vigil. Then I'm hoisted into the air and he carries me upstairs to my room... my mom will be here soon. I shower, I put on my conventional clothes, and skip down the steps.

He is waiting; I go up on tippy-toes, throw my arms around his neck... then I kiss his forehead, both of his cheeks, his nose... then his mouth. This time he returns my sentiments.

On the way home we swing by the dentist; mom has an appointment.

I spot a women's magazine in the waiting room. I read an article entitled "How to Spice Things Up in the Bedroom." I devour every word but by the time I reach the part about "oral skills" my mom is returning... I toss it back on the table, upside down and pray she doesn't investigate.

Samantha

That weekend, I tell her everything. She confesses she had no idea things would progress that quickly. But, still, this is a very good sign.

I ask about oral skills... like... what do I need to know?

Then she runs out of the room and returns with a fairly large green banana. But not made out of rubber or plastic... like a real banana from a grocery store. I immediately realize this is more realistic than practicing on my thumb.

We get on our knees... she peels it then tells me to pay close attention. She kisses it all over then begins to lick... paying special attention to the area just beneath the head. Now it's my turn. I do exactly what she did... and doesn't take long before it's having an effect on me.

Then she takes the tip into her mouth and slowly slides more than half the banana into her mouth. My turn: I follow her example but when I pull back, she tells me to take it deeper so I do... then I pull back and she tells me to take it all the way. The feelings that wash over me when almost the entire male fruit is in my mouth are indescribable... but then I take it too far, and gag.

Sam: "That's your gag reflex. Just relax your throat and bob your head a bit... let it slide in and out... oh, and be sure to keep using your tongue."

I do and I'm now wet and wanting to touch myself... but I can't do that in front of her. I ever so slowly release the banana...

Sam: "You're a natural... like, no teeth marks on the banana!"

The Next Week

Monday: We have the talk, though he has trouble finding his words. For my part, I just keep sincerely telling him over and over again... "Je t'aime" (I love you). But he like seems to think the fact that I'm so young means I'll have later regrets and he doesn't want to be the guy who stole my innocence. He apologizes for allowing things to progress as far as they did, he has no excuse, can't even exactly fathom how he allowed himself to be so completely undone.

Him: "Please, you have to understand. You're like a drug... one I cannot resist. But I must and you need to see that. This... us... can never be real. It was all in our imaginations... and now that dream needs to come to an end... before one of us gets seriously hurt... emotionally."

I'm not following his logic at all... like, what is he talking about? I just look at him...

Him: "Listen, I spent all weekend deep in thought. You want to learn how to speak French. We've made substantial progress, laid a solid foundation. Anyway... I talked to my cousin... and his boss has agreed to bring you on as dayshift waitress."

Me: "What?"

Him: "Yeah, you'll get to practice your French all the time... and learn about the cuisine... plus there's a TV in the office where you can watch the news and the latest shows from France. It's really the perfect fit."

I have no words...

Him: "Plus, I would really like to visit a couple college campuses... and... start preparing for my interviews."

I'm crushed... then think back to "L'Amant (The Lover)" ... the Chinese man had loved her and wanted to marry her but it could never be... and the young girl had had to release him.

I fight back the tears...

Me: "If that's the way you feel... then I understand. Thanks for being honest with me. You were a brilliant teacher. I'll take your advice and accept the job offer. Really does sound like fun..."

I see relief in his face... like I've taken away some burden he's been carrying. I hug him, kiss him on the forehead... then his nose... before turning and walking out his front door.

I'm at the end of the driveway before he yells out and asks if I need a ride back home. I say thanks but it's a nice day and I could use the long walk. Then we exchange our last waves... ever.

It's like 5 miles... but exactly what I need to process everything that just happened. I need to clear my head. As I approach my house, I'm still conflicted about how I should feel. What did I even mean to him?

Luckily, Sam is home. She listens and then holds me when I cry. I had fallen in love for the first time in my life and had my heart broken shortly thereafter. We eat like a gallon of decadent chocolate ice cream. She cheers me up with jokes and tickles; I realize I'll survive to love again.

Sam tells me not to wait... find a rebound-guy! "The best way to get over a guy... is to get under another guy." We both laugh... but then she shares a couple tales with me--oh, she definitely has lived that advice.

I break the news to my parents when they come home from work. They actually like the idea of my working at the bistro. I call the owner the next day...

Je m'appelle (my name is), Joss.

I get to wear the cutest outfit equipped with a beret... and I speak French to all my customers. I take orders then run into the kitchen to relay to the chef. He helps me with the vocab and pronunciations. Life is good, I couldn't be happier. Plus, I'm making serious money... and my folks soon agree that if I can find a tour group trip to Paris... then they'll let me go this summer!

Also, truth be told, guys at my table often flirt with me... which I enjoy. I smile and I blush and, sometimes, I flirt back with an "Ooh La La!"

I arrive this morning to find that Monsieur Darroze has apparently left me something. My heart skips a beat--please, let it be a love letter... he's changed his mind, can't live without me, won't I please give him another chance?

But, no, just a big bag of the clothes I had left at his house. It's hard to stay chipper when you're down... I do try my best though. Luckily, it's a light day and when the owner asks if I'd like to leave early, I jump at the opportunity.

It's hot outside; I decide to change into shorts, a halter top, sensible shoes. As I walk through the restaurant to leave, one of the other waiters whistles at me. I turn and blow him a flirtatious kiss before heading outside.

I walk and I constantly sling my bag from shoulder to shoulder; it's heavy. A couple cars honk their horns at me along the way... I take those as compliments. It slowly dawns on me that part of the reason I've been enjoying male attention so much lately is that HE had rejected me.

I storm into my house, kick my sneakers off, then am surprised when a man calls out from the kitchen. I investigate, only to find a repairman in the kitchen. Our dishwasher has gone haywire... but he's on the case... my mom will be back in an hour.

I stay with him a bit... watching him take readings from some instrument. He is fixated on the problem at hand, I dwell on my own dilemma then remember a certain magazine article. Sure, that was all about spicing things up... but maybe physical pain is exactly what I need in order to heal my heartbreak.

Him: "It's not an electrical issue... the motherboard is fine. Look, the pump needs to be replaced."

Me: "Okay, go ahead and do that."

Him: "Yeah, but it's not so simple. This is an older model... it might be better in the long run to just buy a brand-new dishwasher."

Me: "Oh, well... guess my parents will have to decide."

He stands... a powerful presence... age 30s... no ring on his hand... I notice his eyes walking all over my body. I shake until my straps fall down... he smiles.

Me: "Does it bother you that I just turned 18?"

Him: "No... it... does not. Why do you ask?"

Me: "I need a favor."

Him: "Okay."

Me: "Would you... spank me?"

Him: "Listen, girl, you better not be teasing me. If you are, then you best run away right now. Otherwise--"

Me: "No, I really need this. And... then I'll owe you."

Him: "What? Like... are you serious... that's what you're into?"

Me: "Yeah... and use your hands. Each slap harder until I've had enough."

Him: "Damn, girl... guess you have your reasons though. Alright, but then you owe me."

I pull my shirt off so he can see my tits, he goes slack-jawed... then I turn and begin to walk slowly upstairs to my bedroom. He is right behind me, literally marching in lockstep.

We both enter the room, I turn, he presses me up against the wall. I throw my arms over his shoulders and we begin to kiss. Then his hand is gliding down my taut stomach and beneath my panties... he pets then inserts a finger. I moan...

Him: "Damn, girl! You are as juicy as a Georgia peach."

I push him back onto the bed... take off my shorts... then drape myself over his lap. I'm wearing thong panties.

Me: "Spank me!"

He does... and it stings... and it gets my attention. I hold my breath, not wanting to give him any reason to relent. Then he strikes me again, I whimper.

He pauses... I beg for more... he delivers--now alternating from one cheek to the other... and continuing to ratchet up the intensity... until my butt is beet red and I'm forced to finally respond with howls, groans, and screams. Pain and pleasure mingle... I'm actually wet with excitement... I can tell he is also getting into it. Then he strikes a mighty blow... and I respond "DAMN!" No hesitation, my other cheek receives the next lash--"FUCK!"

Still, I did give very specific instructions... and he knows I haven't exactly submitted. A few more slaps and I wince each time... but I'm not surrendering. He brings his thumb to my lips; tells me to suck on it. I do... willingly... a minute passes... he reaches around my head with his other hand and pinches my nose closed. I instinctively open my mouth to take a breath, he shoves his thumb as far in as he can, until it is at the back of my throat...

I struggle... he begins to rub the soft area at the top of my throat... I try to like spit him out... he stabs in even further and begins to slide down, my body involuntarily heaves and I gag a couple of times.

When he pulls his thumb out, I see it is covered in a thick slimy gob of goo. More than that, there's actually a long trail of gooey gook attached to his hand... I actually feel it being pulled out of my throat.

Then in one motion, his thumb is at my asshole and he smears a bit before pushing it the whole way inside of me. I gasp... his finger moves into like a fish hook and he grips a spot deep in my ass. I moan... the rest of his fingers dig into my cheek. I scream... his other hand delivers a hard spank, I scream again. Then the slaps come in an unrelenting wave... until I'm finally forced to beg him to stop.

His thumb retreats, he begins to rub my butt... to take away the sting... I climb up and wrap myself around his neck... my sobs and tears are real... but he misreads them, begins to apologize.

Me: "No, that was perfect... exactly what I needed."

I look into his eyes... and ask how I can repay the favor. Am I sure? Yep, anything. He tells me to get on my knees.

I obey... as he approaches, my eyes grow wide at the size of his... his cock. He slaps me in the face with it. What? A couple more slaps, I feel like I'm being bludgeoned by a weapon.

I reach up and grasp him at the base... I'm amazed at the heft... then equally thrilled when my tongue discovers how warm and alive it is. I lick up and down the full length of him, paying special attention to all the sensitive spots I had learned about. Not sure how it's possible but he grows even more and now his head is so swollen it looks like polished marble... and there's a clear liquid beginning to pool at the tip.

I wrap my lips around the head and suck it into my mouth; the taste is alien. I stroke him a couple times until I see that more beads have formed; I lap those up as well. There's definitely an Asian flavor... I'm intrigued... and begin to bob my head enthusiastically, while my tongue whirls and twirls against him.

I get an epiphany; this is like worship... I shift to let my feet splay out behind me... my soles turned upwards, facing the heavens in supplication. The feelings produced by this simple act are beyond profound, I feel it in every fiber of my being.

His hands move to my shoulders and grip them hard. I take this as a good sign and begin to take him deeper. He suddenly pulls away. I look up at him... did I do something wrong?

Him: "No, no... you were a very good girl, but right now... I need you to crawl up in that bed... hands and knees."

I obey.

Him: "Listen, the windows are open and you have neighbors."

Me: "I don't care... just don't stop."

Him: "Bury your face in that pillow, Princess."

Seems a strange thing to say but by the time he has pulled my panties down and is pushing his cock into my tight, virgin pussy I understand immediately. I scream into the pillow. He pulls back a bit then plunges all the way in to the hilt. I scream into the pillow again.

Him: "Damn, girl. You are tight!"

I try to escape. He grabs my hips and pulls me back hard, knocking the wind out of me.

Him: "Oh, you're not gonna get away that easy."

He tosses me around like I'm a ragdoll while keeping himself fully pressed inside of me. I make all kinds of noises... clearly to his liking.

Him: "Tell me how much you like my big cock."

Me: "I do, I do..."

Him: "Say it."

Me: "I like your big... big cock."

He chuckles then says he'll be as gentle as he can... seeing as how I've only been with boys up until now.

A man of his word... he's gentle as long as he can be... which is about a minute or so... before he begins to up his speed and intensity.

He hammers and hammers... but every time I scream out, in my mind's eye it is Remy. Then I feel a tearing deep inside me; there are wet collision sounds reverberating all over my room (probably the house and spilling into the yard!)... but the pain is not enough so I scream at him, "Fuck me!"

He suddenly flips me onto my back with my legs up over his shoulders. He looks around, finds my panties, then pushes them into my mouth.

He rolls me into a ball... and begins to piledrive... I scream out a muffled howl... his thrusts cause physical shock waves throughout my body... then I'm sure he is trying to break my bed. Finally, what I need... glorious pain to match the injury to my heart... I close my eyes and picture Remy's face.

The repairman is relentless... he grunts and pummels me into absolute submission before reaching his breaking point--he screams out... clutches me tight and pumps a few more times. He collapses next to me... we are both now covered in sweat and breathing hard. I glance around to survey the scene-- looks like we have just been in a knife-fight.

There is blood... and it is sticky... and it smells strangely sweet... and it is on me, him, and the sheets. Still, I'm not too frightened, Sam had explained that would be the sign that I was now a woman.

I smile inwardly at my milestone... but more so, the fact that I can now truthfully confess: "Monsieur Darroze, Je t'aime et au revoir." (I love you... and goodbye.)

FIN