Vacation Fling

Tenerife Seduction - Noémi

Noémi let out a sigh as she let the sun warm her skin, her toned back finally free from its ever-present tension now that she could lay atop a comfortable lounger by the pool.

Three months. Three long months of stress and emotional turmoil since her breakup from Michael, and only now was she finally able to let it all go. She'd arrived in Tenerife the day before shortly after the sun had passed its zenith after a five-hour flight. A short bus ride later and she'd stepped foot in her hotel, and during that entire trip she couldn't help but feel melancholy at the smallest of things.

Every time she'd had to pick up her suitcase, a part of her had complained that she shouldn't have to; that she should have a man to do it for her. No... not a man. Her man. A man of her own, that she could repay for his gallantry with little shows of affection when no one was looking. Her man that should be available when she felt the urge to press her lips upon a prickly cheek. Her man that would listen to her babble on about the book she'd read on the flight.

The past 3 months had been plagued by such feelings. She didn't miss him per se; not anymore. She'd had months leading up to the breakup to stop missing him. Once he was gone, she'd found she simply missed having someone. But no longer! She'd told herself she had until her vacation truly started, and then she'd be a new woman; a woman that headed down to the pool first thing after a hearty buffet-style breakfast and thought about nothing except how good the wind felt kissing her skin. A woman who didn't need a man, or anyone else for that matter; no one telling her what to do or not do. A woman who would do what she wanted when she wanted and who thought only of her own wellbeing for a change! Incidentally, at that very moment her wellbeing had required a good long rest at the perfectly circular swimming pool, ideally on a lounger facing said pool, with the hotel building in the background. This vacation was going to be lovely... a full week of doing nothing but resting by the water... until she inevitably got bored and found something else she felt like doing.

With the sun warming her skin and the guzzling of the pool lulling her away from consciousness, she eventually reached that special place between asleep and awake, only for her to lazily crack her eyelids open.

In that moment Noémi could not have said why she opened her eyes when she did. There was no shift in temperature nor sudden sound, not even a turn of the wind. Nothing to force her focus away from how comfortable she was and towards whatever sight awaited her beyond her eyelids. Yet open her eyes she did.

She saw her firm breasts rising and falling with her breath and the colourful bikini that framed them, saw her toned legs and dainty feet resting along her pool chair, all that exposed skin glistening in the sun from a healthy dose of sunscreen. Her eyes took in the bright blue sky above, free of clouds. The beige and brown tones of the hotel building, the balcony of her room visible a couple of floors above the bay windows of the bar and courtyard on the ground floor... and she saw him. Her eyes were inexorably, inexplicably drawn to the other side of the pool where a distinctly tall, distinctly male figure was pulling a cream-coloured T-shirt over his head, revealing the body beneath.

Later, when she would think back on this moment, she would wonder at her reaction; she would ask herself why she'd observed him the way she did. Why she'd so intensely taken in the sight of his lean legs covered in off-blond hairs and his bare feet. Why her eyes had slid up the black and orange pair of trunks covering his thighs and lower abdomen, until she'd beheld the thick trunk of his midsection and the pectoral muscles revealed to her with the removal of his shirt.

He wasn't... all that special. He wasn't cut or shredded. Wasn't tan or with perfect skin. He was pale, with perhaps a minute layer of fat on his body; just enough to show he ate well, but with plenty of lean muscle underneath that spoke of hours spent in the gym.

Noémi had some experience with working out, as the curves of her body could attest to, so she could tell just how much mass and power lay dormant within that body. She took in the sparse hair on his chest, and when the time came for his arms to descend and drop his garment on the recliner he'd claimed, she could see a pair of powerful shoulders and arms to match, both so very well proportioned to the rest of him...

Then her eyes rose up further and met his. Deep blue, distinct even from across the pool, framed by a sharp-featured face, a crop of bright red hair, and a matching cropped beard covering the lower half of his face. Only when she had taken in all of his features did she notice she might be staring... and that he was staring back.

With a barely contained squeak she pulled her eyes away from the stranger on the other side of the pool and towards the book she'd prepared on the small table at her side. A few quick movements were all it took to have said book open in her hands, and her sunglasses hiding her eyes. She hoped that any potential blushing visible on her face would be equally obscured by the tinted plastic.

When she next dared stop pretending to read and glance across the pool once more, she found her mysterious stranger sat under a newly opened parasol, applying a healthy dose of sunscreen to his arms and torso.

Makes sense... with how pale he is, he probably has to be careful.

With the object of her attention otherwise occupied and her sunglasses concealing her gaze, she resumed her earlier observation and inner musings. She couldn't quite understand why the look of him had her so fixated. Was it the almost-bronze colour of his hair and the way it shone in the sun? The way he moved, balanced but with an undeniable mass betrayed by the momentum of his limbs? Perhaps the way he was a solid blend of muscle and other, softer flesh, or the pair of oceans serving as his eyes? None of these things on their own should have drawn her attention the way they did and yet their amalgam, along with what felt like a certain intuition, made it difficult for her not to repeatedly throw a look his way over the hour following their first encounter.

He did nothing out of the ordinary for the longest time, and yet she kept looking. Kept seeing him pull out an oversized novel to read, remove and put on a pair of dark sunglasses as the sun played peekaboo with the island of Tenerife and its sisters, and reapply sunscreen before finally getting up.

Her heart sank in her chest at the idea that he would be leaving the poolside so soon, only to see him walk up to the pool and simply... walk off the edge. With a large splash and a wave of ensuing foam, she saw him stand with the water barely reaching his bellybutton, further highlighting just how tall he was.

That water would reach my breasts, at least.

Once his wet hair was pulled away from his face to rest along the crown of his head, he bent his knees and leaned against the small tiles forming the curved edge of the pool. His large arms moved up and out of the water to drape their length on either side of his torso, letting his legs relax below the water. The entire time his head was kept upright, turning from side to side slowly as if he were taking note of the people around the pool, his eyes hidden behind that damnable pair of sunglasses. Finally, he seemed to settle down and face forward... and all of a sudden Noémi could swear that his gaze was fixed on her just like hers was fixed on him.

She held back a shiver at the thought, telling herself that he couldn't possibly know she was staring at him through her sunglasses... and yet wasn't she certain she could feel him watching her? That very sensation remained distinctly present even as the world moved around them, with her and this strangely compelling man locked together in a timeless bubble of ambiguous tension.

It could have been a few minutes, or it could have been an hour later, but at some point she felt a pull. A pull on her limbs and in her chest making itself known, compelling her to put her book aside. To turn her body and plant her feet on the hot tiles of the poolside. To stand. Without ever taking her eyes off the man half-floating across from her, his visage impassive even as she knew that he was watching her every move, she made her way to the edge of the water. After readjusting her bikini and dipping a toe into the still body of water separating them, she gently knelt and slipped her feet and calves beneath the surface. Another shiver, this one born of both tension and the difference in temperature, crawled up her skin as she pushed herself off the edge until the water reached above her breasts.

She felt the usual reactions of her body; hardened nipples, tensed muscles, then a certain weightlessness as she leaned her well-toned back against the tiles. She was still sure he was looking back at her, despite the two pairs of sunglasses between their respective eyes; still certain those two oceans were aimed right at her... but what if she was wrong?

This sensation of intimacy, this little bubble of time just to themselves, what if she was imagining it? What if her mind was playing tricks on her, pulling her away from reality and into a land of make believe just because she desired it? Was this her subconscious losing itself in fantasies she'd entertained for months now?

Just as the feeling of intimacy frayed at the edges and threatened to disappear into disappointment and anxiety, he moved. At some point he'd removed his sunglasses, but she had no time to catch another glimpse of his eyes. She stood stock still and watched him stand from his end of the pool, broad torso dripping with water as he rose up then plunged right back down until all of him was beneath the surface. From her position and the way the water twisted everything within it, all she saw was a shadow... which shot forth from the opposite wall, directly towards her.

Transfixed and curious, anxious and hopeful, desperate not to break this connection but afraid of being wrong, she simply waited. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. She could make out his limbs fanning out to push him towards her. Four seconds. Five seconds. Six seconds. She could see his back now, his entire body rippling under the water, moving at the bottom of the shallow pool to propel him in her direction. Seven seconds. Eight seconds. On the ninth second, she saw him reach the tiles to her right, surfacing like some kind of leviathan from beneath the waves... and simply fold his arms on the edge to rest his head upon them, angled roughly in her direction.

Wanting to avoid another moment of ogling, she turned her head back to face the side of the pool he'd just come from, teetering on the edge of disappointment. She hadn't known what to expect, but-

"Would it make your time here better or worse if I hit on you?"

His voice wasn't straight out of a fantasy. It was... Deep with a hint of a nasal twinge to it. Normal enough, but it still called to her; both familiar and unknown, but most importantly unmistakably aimed at her.

She could not catch herself before her head swiveled toward him, her mouth moving just as fast. Too fast.

"Um. I'm sorry?"

A part of her scolded whatever nervous section of her brain had been in charge of answering, but she had no time to lament the banality of her response before that same voice came her way once more.

"I asked if you'd enjoy it if I hit on you while you were here?"

Thrown off balance by this increasingly baffling man, curiosity led her to honesty, even though that honesty might betray a certain vanity on her part.

I mean, who doesn't like being hit on while alone, at a pool, in a bikini?

"I- um... I don't think I'd mind?"

She did a rather good job of not cringing outwardly at the way she'd formulated it as a question.

"Good, because I probably would have done it anyway."

He answered with a smile at the edge of his lips, his tone playful and yet still serious enough that he might mean it. Noémi wasn't given the chance to reply before he continued speaking.

"So what's a gorgeous girl like you doing in a place like this, and so obviously single?"

The way he referred to her as 'girl' made her notice that he did have a few years on her. Not enough to cause a scandal, but he was probably five, six years older? Either way, she decided to focus on the other part of his question which had caught her attention.

"Obviously single? How can you be sure?"

At that he let out a low bark of a laugh, and his deep blue eyes all but sparkled in amusement as they seemed to bore right through the sunglasses on her nose.

"Well first of all, if you're not refusing my advances so far, I'd hope you were single."

He gave her a cheeky grin before continuing, a set of white teeth briefly peeking out from behind his lips.

"But other than that, it's the fact that I saw you check in alone yesterday, and the way you were looking at me just now."

The first part of his answer ignored, Noémi couldn't help but let her mind run wild at the implications of the second half. True, he could just have been in the lobby when she arrived, but a part of her fixated on the idea of him... observing her. It made no sense of course, yet she couldn't stop the flashes of emotion that came to her at the thought. The anxiety, the worry of being stalked... but also a hint of excitement. Trying her best to move past it, she latched onto the last part of his sentence.

"The way I was looking at you? And what way would that be?"

She let herself sink a little deeper into the pool up to her lower lip, not quite letting her done-up hair dip under the surface but bashfully wishing to hide a part of her face.

"Like you were hoping I'd come over to your chaise longue and straddle it so you could get a taste."

Usually she would have appreciated the accent with which he pronounced those two words, clearly too perfect for it to be from a learned language. Instead, the image his words brought up had her so startled she dipped deeper into the pool than she'd planned, the hair tied up at the back of her head grown wet before she could catch herself. Her mind flashed with a half-defined scene, her sitting up in her lounger as he stood in front of her, hooking his thumbs into his waistband and pushing down...

She sputtered, turning her head to the right to make her outrage heard, but the knowing and confidently insolent grin on his face told her he'd already gotten his little victory.

"I was not looking at you in any such way, Mr. Frenchman!" She answered sharply, trying to preserve some dignity and deflecting to another subject; preferably one that wouldn't make her want to clench her thighs when she lingered on it.

"Weren't you? I suppose I must have misinterpreted; I guess I should take my Belgian ass all the way back to the other side of the pool and not invite you to dinner tonight."

The insolent shit, whose name she incidentally still didn't know, actually had the gall to start turning around and making good on his suggestion. She could see the bait. It couldn't be more obvious, and a little voice in her head told her that this was obviously a playboy toying with her. That he would have his fun and throw her away, and that she was better than that.

"No! No. You don't have to do that."

For crying out loud, Noémi, could you be any more cliché? Might as well beg for it.

"Are you sure, because you can still get an eyeful if I'm over there, and you won't have to deal with my insufferable advances." He kept pushing himself ever so slowly away from her with little rowing motions of his hands as he spoke, light-hearted sarcasm obvious in his tone.

"I'm very sure!" She all but yelled, genuinely surprised at just how... easy she was making it for him. "You mentioned dinner?"

"I did, the buffet starts at 7 o'clock. I'd love it if you wore something as alluring as that bikini and joined me at whichever table I get seated at." He'd reversed course at her outburst and moved back to his resting spot at the edge of the pool, much faster than he'd been while teasing his departure.

"You mean the evening buffet that's included with the room? The one that I've technically already paid for?"

Noémi knew that her words could be seen as a refusal, or at least a sort of wrench in the gears of this seduction game the two of them were playing, but the cynical side of her rose too quick for her to stop the sarcasm she sent his way. Perhaps she meant to regain control of the conversation, to attempt not to look too desperate.

"Yep, that's the one." He didn't even hesitate to give his answer. "It's also the one where drinks aren't included, so I would be more than happy to pay for yours, Miss Scrooge. And before you ask or wonder, yes, I'm definitely hoping to get you drunk and take advantage."

His words were so off-putting that Noémi couldn't respond before he continued.

"Then again I'll probably drink too, so we can both take advantage."

"First of all-" She finally interjected. "My name is Noémi, in case you were wondering, and I'm no money-obsessed Scrooge; I was just... clarifying."

"It's a pleasure, Noémi." He pushed away from the edge and moved towards her, holding his hand out in greeting. "I'm François."

She scoffed, holding her hand out for him to shake. "Really? François? You couldn't have picked a more generic fake name for your vacation fling?"

He gently took her fingers in his, turning her hand so the palm faced the water below it. "I've got a composite name, and I've found that beautiful, impatient women usually prefer to use only the first half."

François then pulled her hand towards him a couple of inches to place a quick peck on the back of her palm.

Noémi stared at him, an eyebrow rising as she wisely refused to acknowledge his words or how much she enjoyed the novel feeling of his lips on her the back of her palm. She equally ignored the way hearing him refer to her as a 'beautiful woman' made her feel.

"That's definitely the corniest thing you've said or done so far."

She told him, trying but failing to put heat into her response.

"And yet it's working."

He responded with a confident smile.

"Is it? How do you know?"

She could feel a trap, see the bait once more, but she still bit into it.

"Because I'm still holding your hand."

And indeed he was, brushing his thumb over the spot he'd just planted a kiss on as he spoke.

At that, Noémi pulled her hand away and into the water with a small splash. She turned towards the edge of the pool and her lounge chair, taking her eyes off of him for the first time in... how long had it been? A dozen minutes?

Then she felt her newly appointed dinner companion move behind her. In a show of frankly indecent confidence, she felt him glide through the water until he was right behind her. He then placed his palms on the edge of the pool, one arm on either side of her shoulders. She could feel his presence like she could feel the sun on her back, his swimming trunks brushing against her backside even after he'd stopped moving.

The size difference means his swimsuit is... at that level.

She thought absently, too stunned by this sudden change of position to really react.

As he all but pressed himself against her, a mere couple of inches between the two of them, she stayed frozen. Her heart raced as she sensed his chest hovering over her shoulder blades; he leaned in and she heard his voice in her ear.

"Give me your room number, and I'll come pick you up at seven."

Noémi knew she should move. She should make a fuss, or pull away from him for his... his insolence! For how forward he was being and the liberties he was taking.

"524"

Instead, it was all she could do to simply give him what he wanted. All she could do not to push back into him until she felt his chest against her back and his arms wrapped around her.

"Perfect." His one-word response rasped out into her other ear before he pulled his hands away from their resting spots on the edge of the tiles.

Noémi found that she'd been holding her breath, and had been for a while. She continued to do so as he pulled away from her, leaving her open to the caresses of the wind and the heavy heat of the sun. If she were truly honest with herself, she would have traded both for the embrace of the stranger she'd just agreed to have dinner with.

Despite hearing the burbling sound of his departure, she resisted the urge to turn around. She didn't trust herself to do so. As she began to breathe once more, calming herself further with each exhale, a second reason made itself known; she was afraid to look up and around her, potentially making eye contact with any witnesses to... whatever had just transpired. Her seduction? Was that what had just happened? Had she just been seduced?

Minutes later, when Noémi finally made her way back to her lounger, her mind remained abuzz with questions. Questions to herself, about herself.

Why did I accept?

She tried to make sense of her own thoughts and feelings, wondering if her earlier thoughts of freedom and celibacy truly reflected her actual desires. She had never been the kind of girl to want a one-night stand or a fling. Of course she'd recently fantasized about such things. especially at night on the rare occasions her breathing echoed out as a duet alongside low, wet sounds from beneath her covers.

Those kinds of nights had become more numerous as the day of the breakup had neared, and as such she had sunk back into habits that she'd thought abandoned during her years-long relationship with Michael; namely the search of fantasies in various forms.

Over the period of time she'd felt herself disengaging from her then-boyfriend, the search history on her phone had grown longer with websites of a more explicit nature. Videos, audios, literature, all means of storytelling had eventually found their way into her routine as she explored a part of herself that she'd given up on years ago. Now, in hindsight, she did wonder if perhaps this new habit hadn't... sped things along when it came to the breakup.

But all of that is fantasy! A fun distraction from a relationship that didn't suit me anymore.

She'd always told herself that looking up all that erotic material was just a way to tide her over, to cope with a lack of intimacy and excitement in her relationship. She'd never thought of ever living out an actual romantic fling! She was too sensible for that. Too... good. She was supposed to be good.

As she attempted and failed to sort out her twisted emotions, jumbled thoughts and conflicting values, time passed. She had eventually made her way back to her room. Hours had gone by since breakfast, wiled away at the pool, then in her room as she cleaned her body and hair with a shower. She'd then scrolled through social media and tried to read her book without actually taking any of it in, hoping to perhaps distract herself... She'd even gone on a walk to the nearby beach and shops, not that that had worked, and eventually found herself in front of her bathroom mirror, dressed in one of the two 'fancier' dresses she'd brought in her luggage.

Her hair was done up, her skin clean and moisturised, a light perfume spread across her person. Her features, slightly twisted into an expression of astounded confusion at her situation, were highlighted by a tasteful amount of makeup.

I haven't looked this nice in... God knows how long.

After a final glance at the golden earrings peeking out from amidst her hair, Noémi mirrored the appraising eye she'd used on François onto her own reflection.

If that's actually his name.

She let her gaze move past her chin to her bare neck, her smooth skin growing more plentiful into an almost improper amount of cleavage. Her hands were placed palms down on the marble surrounding her sink, her favorite ring glinting in the neon light of the bathroom on her right ring finger.

At least I didn't see a ring on his hand when his arms were around me. And the skin of his ring finger didn't have any discoloration.

She thought absently, trying to center herself while she looked upon the dress she'd chosen to wear for him tonight. Even then, she struggled not to lose herself in the memory of that near-embrace. That brazen, overconfident act that she should have rebuked him for, but didn't.

A quick glance at her phone told her seven o'clock was a handful of minutes away, so with one last adjustment of her hair and dress she slipped on a pair of open-topped heels, doing her best to ignore the drumbeat in her chest. She looked fantastic. She felt beautiful. Classy but not over-the-top, stylish but comfortable. Her heart soared at the feeling and almost drowned out the sound of a knock of knuckles on wood.

When she opened the door and found the familiar bulk of a man waiting for her with a rose held out in her direction, she felt a happy giggle bubble up from her chest, just barely restrained before it escaped her lips.

Her hand came up to delicately pry the flower from his much larger fingers and bring it to her nose. As she took in the pleasant scent, her eyes focused on her suitor.

She had, without even realising, expected him to be dressed in a pair of cargo shorts and a t-shirt, like so many men she'd seen in the street and hotel; much like Michael would have worn. Instead, she couldn't suppress a wave of pleasant surprise at seeing a pair of light cotton dress pants and an equally light green shirt covering his broad chest. Both seemed all but freshly ironed. His feet were encased in a pair of Mediterranean-style dress shoes.

It's nothing special. I shouldn't have stars in my eyes for so little, just because I'm used to even less.

A part of her scolded herself for being impressed by a set of nice clothes, but the rest of her could not bring itself to care. She was going on a date with a stranger on a tropical island. She was dressed up. She had a rose!

Despite her attempts to stay composed, she found herself turning to look at the room behind her for a vase.

Or perhaps a cup would do? The rose is cut quite short and-

She felt the stem being gently plucked from her fingers, all thorns fortunately absent from its length. As she turned towards the man who would dare take back her prize, the hair on the left side of her head was parted and she felt warm fingers place the cool stem atop her ear, nestled perfectly in her hair.

She felt a furious blush coming on, her brow furrowing into an insincere frown as she glared at those far-too-confident blue eyes.

"You really do try too hard. It's very corny."

Noémi scolded her would-be Casanova, attempting to mask just how affected she was by his antics.

François didn't grace her words with a response; he didn't even acknowledge that she had spoken, his gaze fixed on his handiwork before murmuring one word.

"Perfect."

And with that flustering response he lowered his arm without pulling it away, instead holding it out for her to grasp. It took her an instant to recognize the move for what it was: he was encouraging to put her hands on his bicep above the elbow if she so chose. Perhaps that single spoken word had simply meant that his placement of the flower had been perfect, but it was ambiguous enough that she chose to accept he found her perfect. Her dress, her hair, her makeup... How could she not hook her arm under his after such a blatant, unapologetic compliment?

She pressed the tips of her fingers into the warm skin of his limb, nails gently poking the flesh right beneath the sleeve of his shirt. She hoped that he was distracted enough not to notice the pressure of her fingers squeezing, holding back an unladylike grunt of approval at the firmness she found beneath her fingertips.

The size of it, the feeling of spongy hardness! I just wanna lean over and sink my teeth into it!

Noémi barely noticed the hallway around them as they walked through the open-air hotel, although she did appreciate the view of Tenerife as the sun set in the distance. Her mind was aflame with unfinished thoughts and giddy excitement as she resisted the urge to bite her lip and ruin her lip balm, instead focusing on the lumbering behemoth guiding her down the hall to the hotel's singular elevator.

"Our carriage awaits."

He said as he pressed the button next to the metallic doors.

She felt the usual snark of everyday Noémi bubble up, rushing to call him a dork or answer his playful tone with some manner of denigration. Instead, she pushed that instinct down and buried that version of herself where she couldn't ruin her evening.

Who cares if it's dorky? I don't mind if it's over the top and corny, I have a rose! In my hair! And I have a big strong arm to drum my nails on. Don't you dare ruin this for me!

Following the current trend of excessive gentlemanliness, her would-be chevalier led her out through the receding doors, then the short distance to the restaurant where she'd had her breakfast that morning. He greeted a passing waiter in basic Spanish with an accent that was definitely him showing off, then brought her outside to the terrace. He pulled his arm away from her-

Don't pout in public! Decorum, Noémi.

-to pull her chair out for her and push it back in as she sat, her palm and fingers already missing the firm muscle she'd been inconspicuously exploring moments before.

As he sat opposite her, she scolded herself for her growing lack of control. She was better than this. Smarter than this. She wasn't naive, she knew he was seducing her; he wasn't even being subtle about it for crying out loud. Yet just like this morning she could see the trap closing in around her and simply... let it. Because it felt nice. Because it was new, and exciting. Just because.

It didn't take long for a waiter to come by and take their drink order, François making good on his earlier promise by putting both on his room's tab, and then they were alone.

She noticed with a hint of gratitude that he wasn't making good on his second promise, ordering a single drink for both of them rather than a full bottle of alcohol in the hopes that she'd drink more.

Wouldn't be the first time...

He was looking at her with a small smile, his elbows resting on the table and one hand clasped in the other below his bearded chin. Just looking at her. She looked back, and despite her pride not wanting her to be the first to break, she decided to defuse the silent tension to avoid another blush she felt coming on.

"So earlier. At the pool."

She still almost blushed at the memory.

"You said something about me being... impatient, was it?"

She raised an eyebrow at him, channelling every actress she'd ever seen that had played a queen of some kind, attempting to appear regal and demanding.

"I seem to recall saying that beautiful and impatient women prefer to call me by the first half of my name, yes. Obviously implying you were both."

The matter-of-fact way he uttered those words was as disconcerting as ever. He spoke as if it were completely normal to call her beautiful!

"And what makes you think I'm impatient?"

She couldn't keep up her attempt at a regal countenance, her features and posture quickly growing more relaxed.

"Well, I had you agreeing to a dinner date within fifteen minutes of actually meeting you. Don't you think that qualifies?"

Again with that cheeky half-smile. Again with that feeling that she was dancing in the palm of his hand, or that he'd somehow practiced every word he spoke ahead of time, as impossible as that might be.

It's almost like this is all a play he's written, and I'm just playing the part he wrote for me...

By the time their drinks arrived she had resigned herself to that feeling and found that it felt quite cozy. Like there were no wrong answers, no bumps in the road of conversation. She spoke and he listened, and when he spoke she all but held her breath, wondering what new compliment or playful verbal trap he would spring on her.

She'd fully expected the conversation to rapidly veer towards the usual questions about her work, her hometown, her family... The usual subjects. Instead, François asked about the book she'd been pretending to read at the pool. He asked her about her plans for her vacation, and what kinds of activities she wanted to try.

A mention of a boat tour led him to ask about her thoughts on jet skis and other water sports, which in turn led to talk of fears and anxiety. He was empathetic as she spoke on the subject, yet still distinctly male in his thought process when he gave his point of view. Instead of feeling frustration however, his words and his tone made her feel like he was trying to understand, even if he wasn't quite there yet. Then he spoke of his own worries, and both of them ordered another drink.

The sun, which had already begun to set when they'd sat down, continued to sink until it fell below the horizon. The restaurant staff did not tarry to turn on the outside lighting, bathing the two of them in an intimate ambiance only possible on account of Tenerife's warmer climate. If Noémi were back home and dressed as she was, her teeth would be chattering.

And I'd have an excuse to get that meaty arm around my shoulders the moment we got up.

A third glass did nothing to counteract her inner monologue's gradual disinhibition, and her outer demeanour followed suit as the evening progressed.

She was laughing. She was asking questions and switching from one subject to the next with no regard to whether her companion could figure out the connections, yet he didn't flinch. He took it all in stride, playing along when she went off on a mad tangent and growing more grounded when she turned to more difficult topics...

For the first time in so very long, Noémi was herself. Unabashedly, proudly. It felt good.

It felt good when his lips pressed themselves against hers, separating just long enough to breathe out and brush his tongue against her lip balm. She knew he appreciated the fruity taste she'd chosen when a growl thrummed from his chest into hers. His body was pressed against her, her back up against the wall next to her room's door, with one of his meaty hands holding the back of her head in its palm. Her breathing was erratic between each kiss, made even more so by the gasps she let out while his second hand roamed her body from her ribs to her hips, staying properly yet infuriatingly distant from the more indecent parts of her anatomy.

She was elated when one of his palms slipped down past her waistline, then flushed with a gasp when said palm filled itself with the flesh of her bottom to pull her a few inches off the ground. A firm push of his hips kept her pinned in place long enough for her to tighten her thighs against his hips, the jolt of excitement reminding her of the keycard between her fingers. She sent that arm in the general direction of the doorknob, hoping that waving it haphazardly would let the door detect the chip embedded within.

A thrill ran down her spine when she felt him grip the hair at the back of her skull and firmly pull it down. His lips moved from the flushed skin of her cheek to the underside of her chin, and finally her throat. The man pinning her against the wall of the corridor betrayed his previous act of a composed gentleman when his kisses became mixed with strokes from a warm, wet tongue... and bites from a set of sharp teeth.

Her mouth, now free to breathe, let moans and gasps fly past her lips while she closed her eyes. She felt her legs instinctively wrap around his broad waist and her free hand slide under his arm to hold onto his muscular back, trying to bring him closer. Her eyes flew open when she felt him clamp a full bite into the side of her neck, just as she heard the beep of the door opening.

"O-open."

She whispered to the animal tasting her skin, the previously busy fingers of her hand now hanging onto his thick neck. She felt the way the muscles along his spine undulated as he moved his head, trying to push his face deeper into the crook of her shoulder, threatening to bring those gasp-inducing nips towards her cleavage and whatever he might find further south.

He seemed to hear her, evidently still conscious despite the profound effect her body was having on his faculties. He focused just long enough to turn towards her room, eliciting a squeak from Noémi as she felt the wall holding her up disappear. Despite the sudden lack of support, she barely shifted in his grip, evidently on account of the biceps she'd recently grown so fond of.

The brute holding her up actually had the gall to use her left buttock to press down on the doorhandle, allowing him to carry her through the frame. A quick kick from him closed the door behind them, and even quicker thinking on her part had the card sliding into its slot to turn on the electricity in the room. She absently noticed the lights turning on near the bed and the air-conditioning rumbling into activity above them, then found herself immediately distracted by the feeling of her back being pressed up to another wall.

They were now in the room proper, her facing the side of the large double bed she'd decided to splurge on when she booked her trip, him facing the wall he'd just pinned her up against. Then came the shifting of his hands. Both sets of five digits and their corresponding palms gripped the expanse of flesh from her thighs to her ass and before she could even think to ask what he was doing, he'd forced her legs from around his waist to propel her upwards along the smooth painted plaster. She let out a half-strangled scream, finding her hands gripping his hair in a vice as she shrieked through the buzz of alcohol and arousal in her mind.

"What're you doing?!"

Only when she clenched her fingers further and pulled on his hair to keep her balance did she realize her thighs now sat on his shoulders. She felt his hair grow tense between her digits, and he growled at the pain. She felt that rumble through her thighs and through her panties.

My dress is hiked up! His nose is-

She let out a completely indecent moan when he planted a kiss on her lips through the fabric. One of her hands pressed itself against the wall next to her, out of shock and need to stay upright.

"Put- put me dow-"

Her words were pushed aside by the moan that bubbled up from her lungs when she felt the animal beneath her run the entire flat surface of his tongue across her core.

His left hand was on her upper thigh, keeping her leg pinned between it and his shoulder. His right hand snaked up her belly, ran its palm across her heaving breast and the undeniably hard nipples beneath her dress, then turned to slide sideways along her ribs until it settled firmly onto her upper back, nestled firmly between her and the wall.

The next run of his rough tongue across the fabric of her underwear had her gripping the arm along her abdomen with one hand while the other remained in his hair. When he turned on the spot, a brief wave of nausea was followed by a rush of adrenaline when he bent forward at the waist. All this only heightened the physical pleasure she felt, anchoring her mind fully into her body and making her more sensitive.

For a brief eternity, Noémi was falling. She was weightless, her hair flowing up past her face, her eyes wide and mouth open in a mix between the remains of a moan and the start of a shriek. She felt his hand splayed out between her shoulder blades, pressing upwards so her back could land onto the thick mattress with barely a bounce.

Fresh air came rushing into her lungs only for them to tense and contract, pushing up a litany of angry words that tumbled over themselves to be the first past her lips.

That jumble of swears constricted into a crescendo of ecstasy when his tongue forced its way between the folds of her sex and into her core. Her panties had been pushed to the side, François' left hand still keeping her thigh against his shoulder while its twin had moved to palm one of her breasts. His dexterous fingers found her erect nipple and rolled it between them even while his tongue coiled in on itself to push deeper inside her, his lips almost forming a seal with her own as he sought to devour her.

He's so forceful! Like it's more than a desire... Like he needs me.

As he knelt at the side of the bed, head buried between her thighs, his movements grew as erratic as they had been outside the room. The sensations forcing moans and whines of pleasure from her mouth were born of a mix of skin, beard, lips and teeth pushing themselves into her most intimate and sensitive parts. He seemed to constantly brush against her clit with either his lips or the surprisingly soft hairs around them, both occasionally replaced by the warm flesh of his tongue before it dove back inside her.

Her nails dug into the covers and hair as she writhed in his grip, her hips attempting to buck or twist but kept firmly pinned by a single hand on her lower belly and the muscular forearm it stemmed from. Noémi could only bring one of her hands to her mouth to muffle her cries and gasps as he lit her nerves on fire. She could feel herself hurtling up towards that cliff's edge she'd so rarely reached, her mind and body perfectly synchronised while her climax rose up to meet her.

A part of her wanted to slow down, to stop, to make it last, but she simply couldn't. She might blame it on any number of things; from how long it had been, to the alcohol in her veins, but deep down only one truth was important.

I want this.

She reached the edge of that sweet precipice and sprinted off of it, soaring as the waves rose up to envelop her. Her entire body froze from crown to toes, muscles trembling as she wailed her pleasure for the world to hear. Her nails all but pierced through the blanket, her thighs clenched around the firm skull that even now was elongating her climax with gentle kisses and licks. He kept her body grounded on the bed while her mind flew as free as any bird, his fingertips brushing circles around her areolae until her soul descended back into her flesh.

"Good..."

She heard his voice over her panting breaths, over the sound of her heart slowing down in her chest. That word just wasn't enough to describe what had just happened, but she did not have the oxygen in her lungs to talk just yet. That obviously didn't stop François. He rose from his kneeling position next to the bed, his beard glistening with a mix of sweat and juices as he removed his shirt one button at a time.

She couldn't move from her spot on the bed, her entire body still abuzz with the consequences of his actions, but she made sure to angle her chin down to look at him as he recreated her first glance of him at the pool. A tall, broad man removing his clothing in front of her as she lay on her back staring.

In the dim light of the room, with a single, yellow-tinted bulb defining shadows across his silhouette, she saw and felt how much bigger he was compared to her. When he undid his belt, her dazed mind marvelled at the way the muscles of his chest flexed and released, and how his forearms pushed his pants down his muscular legs once he'd hooked his thumbs into the waistband. Her mouth watered when she saw the bulge in his briefs, tongue sliding out to lick her lips even as the scents of their activities filled her nose.

She could smell her perfume mixed with her arousal, both complementing the musky scent of the man climbing the bed on top of her, only barely hidden by his cologne. She couldn't resist the urge to stare at his groin, looking for any shift or silhouette, any defining features of what awaited her underneath that fabric...

She didn't resist as his strong hands reached out for her, letting her eyes close with a happy sigh while he removed her clothing. All of her clothing. One by one, he took her garments from her body and she let him. She was too shy to look him in the eye as he did it but she relished the warmth of his gaze on her body, not to mention the roughness of his palms as he ran them over her skin. She shifted her hips to help him, let him use that big muscular body of his to lift her torso and remove her dress entirely, then let her lips curl into a smile when she sensed him move between her legs again.

Her eyes fluttered open at the sensation of his briefs brushing against the inside of her thighs and moaned when that taut fabric pressed itself against her still-dripping folds.

Her legs spread themselves wide of their own accord before wrapping themselves around his waist once more, oh-so-gently grinding her wet little pussy against the throbbing flesh hidden by his underwear.

Mmmh... it feels big, that's for sure...

She sent shivers up and down her body by angling her hips back and forth to brush him against her clit, his girth separating her lips and teasing her entrance the entire time.

She couldn't make anything out amongst the shadows between their two bodies, so she slid her gaze up his abdomen along the slightly more visible cords of muscle below his ribs. She bit her lip and let out a low groan when he shifted against her, applying more pressure to the sensitive bundle of nerves between her legs as he did so, and moved on to devour the broad chest looming over her with her eyes.

The animal on top of her dwarfed her body in its entirety. His hands were on either side of her petite shoulders; his barrel of a chest hovered over her like clouds rolling in before a storm, held up by two pillars of flesh that would put some fenceposts to shame.

The shelf of muscle between his arms was simply too tantalizing for her flooded brain to resist, so she placed her tiny hands onto both pectorals with a half-restrained giggle, marvelling at just how firm they were beneath her fingers, one of the two echoing with the beat of his heart.

His heart is beating so fast...

Before she could go any further and actually speak her thoughts out loud, her view was obstructed by his face when he leaned down and pushed his lips upon hers once more.

"Mmph!"

She mumbled in surprise before closing her eyes for an insistent, breathy kiss. This time he didn't stop at her lips. He pried her mouth open with his tongue. It darted in to play with hers, letting her have her first real taste of him. She sank into the kiss, her tongue playing and exploring his own, interrupted only by little squeaks and moans as he began shifting his hips himself. His rhythm picked up slowly, steadily, sending jolts of heat up her body as he ground his searing flesh against hers.

By the time he pulled back, both of them were breathing hard; their bodies were joined near the hips and neither of them wanted to stop, instead increasing the pressure and adding variety to their movements to explore the pleasure they were both revelling in.

He feels like he's about to burst...

What conscious thought she still had available to her marvelled at how full and hard he felt, like marble wrapped in a thin layer of rubber. Every inch of his skin she could feel was pulsing with heat, and the length sliding across her dripping entrance was no exception.

It's like a brand against my cunt...

She stared up at his face once more. Their eyes met; this time he was close enough that she could feel his warm breath on her face and shoulders. She heard his heartbeat through the hands on his chest, in a position more intimate than she remembered ever feeling with a man. When she stared into those deep pools of blue and the dark dilated orbs at their centre, it was like she and he were one.

François was on the verge of losing control.

The man had the animal by the scruff of its neck, the fur threatening to slip between his fingers in a way he'd never had to experience before.

He could scarcely believe where he was, or what he was doing; when he'd dropped into that pool and swam to the other side to flirt with a woman he knew nothing about, his heart had been hammering in his chest. It had been doing so for almost an hour before he convinced himself she was looking at him, then worked up the courage to do something about it.

He'd never approached a woman so directly, let alone out of the blue like that. He'd always thought he would be a bother or a nuisance, that he would be interrupting a woman's day in a way that he simply did not want to.

Despite his misgivings, he'd told himself he was in a strange place, with strange people. A place no one would remember him once he left a week later, and he'd always been told to 'shoot his shot'. So he finally had. He'd been afraid of saying the wrong thing the whole time, but once he'd started with that obscenely corny and confident pickup line, he found he couldn't change course. He kept the game going and somehow managed to keep the ball rolling. He'd listened to that little voice inside his head that he always ignored, the one that fed on fantasy and fiction and regurgitated more of the same, even when it told him to get closer than he'd ever dare with a perfect stranger...

She really is perfect.

He stared down at her, his breath heaving from his chest as every iota of sensation in his body seemed to orbit his groin. He could feel her wetness seeping into his briefs, coating his length with every shift of his hips. Her chest was bare and open beneath him, inviting him to lean down and take a breast into his mouth, but the animal was breaking free and he needed to make a choice. Let himself fall back into old habits, or simply encourage these new instincts.

The impulses he'd always held back, the desire to just take and control and act as if success were a given... It had worked so far and his inner voice had only grown bolder with every success. With every moan and shriek of pleasure. The trembling of Noémi's limbs when he made her cum with his mouth was the final nail in the coffin for his decision.

Why shouldn't I? Why would I hold back when I deserve to take what I want? She obviously wants me to. She enjoys it.

He felt his grip loosen on the snarling beast in his chest, then simply let go.

"Take it out." It rasped at her, eyes telling her she couldn't refuse.

She didn't.

She mewled under it, running her hands down its body with gentle, appreciating touches until her fingers slipped inside the briefs' waistband. Her legs came loose, lessening the pressure between their bodies so that she could push the fabric down until it was entirely free. Warm air brushed against its shaft and balls, shivering when her hands gently brushed against the length and grasped it.

The animal's mind focused when it saw her expression change. The playful satisfaction on her face morphed to a slack look of shock as her fingers wrapped around it more firmly, moving down its length as she began to murmur.

"No... no no no. Oh my god no..."

She looked between them, her hands moving more quickly as she explored every inch of his throbbing shaft, her whispered words repeating in a mix of awe, fear, and excitement. François wanted nothing more than to ask her what was wrong, if she wanted to stop. But he wasn't in control anymore. He'd gone too far to care at this point, so he simply kept the course.

Noémi felt the man above her angle his hips down, bringing the monster in her hands lower to aim at her entrance. She was still wet from her previous climax, and she couldn't deny a fresh wave of arousal had accompanied her discovery of exactly what she was working with.

That's not going to fit! It's got to be several inches bigger than... than anything I've actually taken before!

Noémi had probably seen a cock that big or bigger, but never in person! Perhaps on a screen but never close enough that she'd ever have to consider touching it!

Her babbling was interrupted by a sharp breath in when she felt the spongy, pulsing head press itself right where the underside of his shaft had been a minute earlier, and her breath hitched. She looked up at him with worry on her features and a hint of fear in her voice alongside arousal and excitement.

"It's- it's not going to fit, I think."

She whispered up at him, her thighs trembling on either side of his hips as she tightened them. Her hands were back on his chest gently applying pressure, as if hesitating on whether she wanted to push against him.

His response was a wild-eyed glare that promised unspeakable things. His right hand moved from the surface of the mattress to grab one wrist, then continued across her bare chest to bring the pair together. Finally, he pulled them up above her head where they stayed, pinned beneath a significant portion of his weight.

His face was close enough to kiss again when he spoke.

"If you really want to stop, your safeword is mannequin."

Her eyes widened as she took in his words, then let out a keening wail when he pushed his hips forward in one fluid movement. Her nails dug into the flesh of his hands while her breath left her lungs, her lower body burning up in a mix of pain and pleasure.

Noémi couldn't tell what she was feeling beyond 'stretched'. Her arms and shoulders tensed, her torso writhed; her hips were pinned beneath his abdomen, thighs so tense she couldn't move from underneath him even if she tried.

"Please... please!"

She gasped out a plea, but she didn't know what she was begging for. François knew what he wanted, so he simply pushed the crown of his cock into her wetness until they both heard and felt a wet pop.

He was inside her. She was wrapped around his tip. His body had lowered itself to bring their chests together, his arm still held above her head to keep her wrists pinned. Their eyes were fixed upon each other when he captured her mouth once more. He bit at her lower lip, then sealed his to hers. His tongue pushed its way past her teeth even as his cock slid deeper and deeper inside her.

So full...

He groaned and gasped into their kiss as he kept moving. She felt him start to saw his cock in and out of her, taking his time either to let her accustom herself to his girth or to relish every moment of her penetration. She didn't know his intentions. Couldn't know. Then she couldn't care, because the walls of her cunt were tensing around the pillar of flesh sliding in and out of her.

Every stroke in made her whimper and moan. Every stroke out felt like he was turning her inside out. Both terrified her, keeping her frozen to avoid being hurt, and yet she loved them in equal measure. It felt so good to be filled, to be full! It was so exquisite to feel the pulsing edge of his crown scrape against her coiling walls.

On and on it went, for a moment and forever. His body seemed to grow larger and heavier as he pumped into her in a steady rhythm, the pressure on her wrists growing from a firm grip to an inescapable band of steel keeping her arms up and chest open. Vulnerable. Bound under his weight as she was, she came to realize she had no choice. Nowhere to go. Nothing she could do. His weight, his girth, the position of his body on top of her had taken any and all potential resistance from her, leaving her only one choice. To enjoy it.

Her moans grew more frequent as they echoed around her hotel room, highlighted by keener whines when she began moving her hips in time with his steady thrusts. Once her mind returned to her enough to have conscious thoughts, she found herself already climbing up towards that cliff's edge. Burning pleasure once more spread from her core in time with the beat of her heart. Her breathing grew raspy as the tension reached her lungs and throat, the rest of existence falling away to leave only her body and the man on top of her; his breaths came in steady and half-growling while his entire body worked in a beautifully orchestrated choreography to piston his cock further and further into her twisting depths.

Her gaze was unfocused as she looked up at all of him at once. The primal snarl on his features framed the intensity of his gaze, which itself betrayed a single focus: her. Every muscle and bone in his body serving the single-minded purpose of fucking her, flexing and slackening above and against her in nature's oldest dance. Noémi's legs tensed in time with his thrusts, fanning the flame of her own desire even as she relished the pressure of his hand on her wrists. The sudden feeling of his lips on her nipple when he finally decided to lean down to have a taste only served to push her pleasure further towards its peak.

At that point he finally bottomed out. His balls and thighs smacked heavily against the cheeks of her ass. His pelvis ground deliciously against the sensitive nub of concentrated lightning above her cunt. Her mouth formed a perfect 'O' as she lost control of her body once more, the cliff she'd been inching towards crumbling beneath her feet before she was ready. Gravity lost its hold on her for the second time that night as she arched her back, every muscle in her body aiming to push her up into the sky where she'd be free to soar and float as she saw fit... But he was still there. His weight was stronger than even the Earth's pull, stronger than her as he growled and kept her pinned beneath him. His hips never stopped pumping, slowed but not stopped by the sudden tightening of her inner walls around his shaft. When she wailed loud enough to wake the entire island and its neighbours, he gagged her with a forceful kiss. Her arms were immobilized above her head, still captives of his grip. Her legs flailed and twitched around his hips, their purpose unknown. Whatever the goal might be, she failed to move the hulking mass of bone, muscle and sinew that claimed her flesh tonight.

The electric burn of her climax made a full three rounds of her every nerve, as if to ensure that she remembered just how good it felt for years to come. A mental brand of sorts. Despite his efforts to prolong her orgasm, it eventually lessened to a low ember-like warmth. She lay panting, her mind reeling at what she'd just been subjected to.

Two back-to-back...?

Noémi's thoughts sounded surprised even to herself, but she had no time to contemplate further. Her body had gone slack after the veritable storm of twitching and writhing that had accompanied her ecstasy, her breathing finally grown steadier just as she felt François move again. He was still inside her, of that she was certain from the pulsing hardness still filling her to the brim. One of his warm hands, the one that had kept her arms restrained, was now latching onto her left ankle.

She tried to focus past tears she had not even known were in her eyes, looking up at the stranger between her legs as he pulled one foot up in front of his face and down the other side in a slow arc. Her legs were brought together on one side, her body forming an 'L' shape from above, the pull twisting her torso onto its side to follow the movement of her limbs, only to keep going as her lover manoeuvred her further.

'You're... not done?"

I don't know if I can take any more...

Her speech was slurred from fatigue and an overstimulated nervous system, her body limp even as he grabbed her by the waist. With his second hand on the back of her neck, he moved her like a puppet... no, a marionette. A toy bent and positioned for his pleasure until she was on her knees with her face pressed into the mattress. She moaned in protest while she felt herself rotate around the length still buried firmly inside her, her breasts spilling out to the sides and her arms still above her head, now kept there by exhaustion rather than that animal's unbreakable grip.

My wrists feel kind of sore...

"There we go... Just a little longer, and we'll be done."

She heard him promise, a mix of sweet seduction and selfish desire in his tone while he pulled her up by the back of her neck. He raised her chest up despite her mewling and undecipherable pleas to stop moving her like a toy on his cock, that even now throbbed against her coiled insides. His hand let go, and one of the arms she'd spent their dinner date admiring slid over her shoulder, across her clavicles, then brought the forearm towards the bicep until her trachea was firmly nestled between them. Breathing became a rougher affair immediately. Not impossible, but more difficult. Her body reacted with a weak surge of adrenaline while his hips began to move once more.

Oh god... I'm too... sensitive...

She found herself too weak and her airway too constricted to do much more than squeak as she felt him pump his waist into her shapely buttocks, sending ripples through them while her breasts swung with increasing momentum. Her arms fought through her exhaustion to sink their nails into the steel cords of muscle on his forearm, hoping to stabilize herself and perhaps give her compressed throat some relief.

She quickly found she needed no help with François' body moulding itself to hers, his powerful legs more than capable of keeping her steady while he fucked her with an ever-intensifying rhythm. She utterly failed loosening his grip, her throat just as unbreakably bound as her wrists had been. His second arm was wrapped around her lower abdomen, his palm splayed out over where her womb was. All she could do, as had been the case since she'd allowed him inside her room, was let go. Let him have his way with her and simply enjoy the ride.

Noémi could do nothing as she hung from his arms. Her entire body shuddered through a host of endless aftershocks, her body still so sensitive from her second climax that she would twitch and gasp through continuous smaller orgasms. They wouldn't reach the heights of the previous two and passed much faster but would instead build up immediately after the previous wave, chaining one after another for as long as her lover kept pumping into her.

She continued to force breaths past the arm around her throat while he grunted with increasing intensity, eventually bottoming out again. His balls would impact her clit with wet slapping sounds, alongside the lewd squelching of her sex. No matter how tired the rest of her body felt, her cunt welcomed his endless thrusting despite the deep soreness of her flesh.

Noémi felt at peace, in a way. Her mind was foggy from pleasure, but she felt her situation was perfectly natural. She was here in his arms, serving as a warm cocksleeve for him to push himself into until he was satisfied.

What better way to repay how good he's been to me?

She giggled internally while another moan escaped her lips, woozy and half-delirious in a way that could not be explained by the alcohol she'd had earlier. Her body shook and jiggled as he fucked her roughly, his delicious balls slapping or grinding against her clit when he would push all the way inside her just how she liked...

This is so good... He makes me feel soooo goooood...

François had been close to erupting for what felt like hours now. His body was reduced to the building heat of his orgasm, held back only by sheer willpower and the desire to finish this evening right. His skin was covered in droplets of sweat as he pumped his arms and hips in a powerful, steady rhythm that was quickly eroding the dam holding back his climax.

The woman he held in his arms wasn't even attempting to speak anymore. He saw her body pressed against his, her breasts bouncing on her chest and the slaps of his hips on her round ass echoing in his ears alongside her strangled squeaks of pleasure.

I have to cum... I gave her all she could take, now I take my due.

Despite the pressure in his groin begging to be released, he grit his teeth one last time. He pressed his chest into her back to place his lips to her shoulder and breathlessly growl.

"I'm going to cum inside you."

He could feel his voice resound through her body, and all the response he got was a strangled half-choked gurgle.

"Tighten that slutty little cunt if you want it."

Noemi shuddered at his words. If she had been in a normal state of mind she might have scowled at being called a slut or treated like a toy! As things stood, her body's only reaction was a primal one. Her thighs contracted along with the surrounding muscles, all in the hopes of pleasing the male ploughing into her.

François felt her pussy catch his length in a trembling vice when he next pushed himself to the hilt inside her, and that was all the permission he needed. He let go of Noémi's upper body to place both hands on her waist. He admired the way her ass grew even more defined when her head fell to the bed's surface, followed by the rest of her upper body. The only part of her still held up was the thick pair of cheeks quivering from each impact of his hips. His fingers dug into her flesh. His arms burned with a surge of animalistic desire as he forced his hips to move faster. Harder.

More. More. So close... Take it...

"Take it all!"

He roared as his own climax rushed through him like a tidal wave.

Noemi felt her lover thrust into her like an animal, felt him pulse inside her. She felt him erupt deep inside as her body was flooded with pleasure for the last time, pushing her past the limit of consciousness. She was vaguely aware that she was screaming into the mattress. All she felt before her mind went dark was a pleasure and satisfaction so pure she could only call it heaven.

When Noémi would awaken the next day to the sound of deep breathing and warm sunlight pouring through a gap between her curtains, she would have to reckon with what had occurred the night before and figure out what it all meant for her. What it all meant to him. That would come later. A problem for Noémi of the future.

Noémi of the present would awaken once more during the night. Minutes after their coupling had ended, she would find herself lying on her stomach, half of her chest draped over a muscular and hair-covered thigh. Her arm would be wrapped around his massive leg, and his arm would be resting over her shoulder with a hand on her back. Most important would be the half-engorged cock resting on her tongue, her lips stretched taut to accommodate it and let its taste coat her tongue.

François would notice her shifting as she attempted to rouse herself from her slumber, looking down at her from where he sat with his back to the headboard. She would mumble drowsily on account of her full mouth before he would shush her, stroking her hair until she settled down. A gentle groan would escape his lips when she nuzzled her face further into his lower abdomen, taking more of his tip into her mouth to suckle on while she fell back asleep. A part of him thought he should pull it away from her, but... She'd been so insistent when she nestled into his lap and lapped at it until it slipped past her lips... The very definition of cum-drunk.

It would be cruel to keep it from her; she seemed to really want a taste.

He would think with a hint of amusement.

Unbeknownst to each other, and promising an awkward conversation in the morning, their thoughts would eventually wander down a similar path. Both would, in the back of their mind, wonder if this was a one-time fling. Both would sincerely hope it wasn't. Both would remember this night forever and wisely edit most details when their families asked how they met.