Hello guest! (Level: guest) Log in

You can change the width of the story text shown below:
Use how much percent of the screen width?

[ default ] [ 10% ] [ 20% ] [ 30% ] [ 40% ] [ 50% ] [ 60% ] [ 70% ] [ 80% ] [ 90% ] [ 100% ]

Options: Plain text or PDF (fanclub only!) version  |  Mark story  |  Mark author

Don't forget to vote for this story, in the yellow voting box below the story!

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

“Suzette, Simone has a husband problem, and I thought you might be able to help.”

Simone explained. “I was a virgin when I got married, but of course, I knew that French women were famous for the way they made love. My mouth was a virgin, too, but on our honeymoon, I took to it right away.”

Valerie Dellacroix interrupted, “her lips were always raw. I introduced her to a wonderful, soothing lip balm.”

Simone continued. “Valerie isn’t wrong. Not to brag but by the time Jean Pierre and I were married five years, I was probably as skilled as any French woman, including the prostitutes.”

Valerie interrupted again, “I remember at one party, Jean Pierre had too much wine and loudly proclaimed that Simone was the best lover possible.”

“I was so embarrassed because everyone knew what Jean Pierre meant. I was a French woman; I made love like a French woman. With my mouth. Among my closest friends and my sisters, it was already common knowledge.”

“Suzette, her sisters, and I would joke with her, “Simone, you’re never going to have children if that’s the only way you make love.”

“Of course, it wasn’t. Jean Pierre would mount me once a month or so, but most of the time . . . Anyhow, I never did have children.”

“And we know why,” Valerie laughed.

“But now I have no desire. Oh, once every few months I’ll get on my knees for Jean Pierre, but he knows I’m not really interested. That’s why when Valerie told me about you, I was anxious to meet you. Anxious to see if we could come to some agreement.”

“Valerie, you told her what I do with your husband?”

“Of course. Among my circle of friends like Simone, your mouth is always a topic of conversation, and they all know about your delicious pussy. Francois brags to his friends about the young pussy he’s getting.”

I could not have been any redder. Did all of Paris know? Like I said, the French are strange. “Ummmm, Madame Romeaux, when I come to Paris, as Valerie has told you I’m pretty busy with Francois. Right now, he’s resting, but when we get back to their estate, I expect he’ll be ready for more.”

“Simone, remember I told you that Francois prefers to make love with his tongue, and according to him, Suzette has the most delicious pussy.”

I said I could not have been any redder. I got redder.

Simone continued, “what I was thinking was, why don’t you move to Paris? We own a building overlooking the Seine and across the river is the Louvre. I could make it available at no charge, and you could be with Francois and Jean Pierre whenever they desired to make love to you or you to them.”

Except for a few close friends, no one knew about the villa Yevgeny gave me and which provided me with a comfortable income, but I still worked at the Montpelier airport. It was a wonderful place to meet wealthy men. And with my sixth sense, wealthy men with long, fat cocks who had skillful tongues; like Valerie Dellacroix’s husband, Francois.

“Suzette, Simone and I have talked about that. It would be crass to pay you in Euros and I know you’re not that kind of woman, but what if Francois and I made you partners in our business?”

“What kind of business?”

“All over Paris, we own a dozen flower shops, They are very lucrative and we’d start out by giving you two.”

“I don’t know anything about flowers.”

“Neither do we. Francois and I have a management company that does everything for us. Here’s the other thing, like Simone I didn’t have any children.”

Simone interrupted, “Suzette, don’t let Valerie pass that by. She didn’t have any children for the same reason I didn’t. Valerie, I reminded you numerous times if you have Francois’ cock in your mouth instead of your pussy, you’ll never get pregnant.”

Valerie laughed along with Simone, but she was blushing, too. “Suzette, what I was going to say is that if you agreed to this, Francois and I would re-write our wills to make you sole owner of all the flower shops when the time comes.”

It was an offer that was too good to refuse.

I now had a lovely flat overlooking the Siene, and every month there was a healthy deposit into my bank account from the flower shops I now owned, plus the income from Yevgeny’s villa.

Instead of Charles and Daniel fucking and eating me, and giving them blowjobs, it was Francois Dellacroix and Jean Pierre Romeaux. They were older but still had needs and desires. No Frenchman can resist twenty-one-year-old pussy.

Jean Pierre had a long, fat cock just like I preferred. I’ve bragged before, but I have to say Jean Pierre Romeaux’s tongue could not get enough of my pussy.

And, as Simone told me when we had lunch, “Suzette, Jean Pierre claims that your lips are like mine were when I was your age. I brought you some of the lip balm that I used. It’s marvelous, and according to Jean Pierre you’re going to need it.”

Valerie was sitting with us. Although she knew, I still blushed.

Francois and Jean Pierre only fucked me perhaps once a month, but I saw them every few days. They both loved rubbing their faces in my golden bush. They both loved it when I rubbed my golden bush in their faces while I rode their tongues.

That wasn’t all. Every time I saw one of them, our time ended with a blowjob. It took hours and hours of pussy eating for their old cocks to get hard. Both were in their seventies. I don’t know if they were taking a pill, but once their cocks got hard, they stayed hard. I could suck for hours and hours, and I did. At their age, once they filled my mouth, they were done for a day or two.

“Jean Pierre, I’m so happy that Madame Dellacroix introduced us. I’ve never sucked a more magnificent cock.”

“Suzette, at my age to make love to a sweet, young pussy is a treat I look forward to. Would you mind if I licked it one more time?”

“Oh Jean Pierre, make my pussy squeal; make it squeal like only you can. Your tongue is the best.” I spread my legs. “Show me again how a Frenchman makes love.”

One night Valerie and I were having dinner. She always wanted to know the details of my encounters with her husband. It was embarrassing. “Suzette, I was in my room with the door closed, I could still hear you. You sounded like I must have sounded when I was your age. Does my husband still have it?”

I turned bright red. “Oh Valerie, I wish you still had the desire. I’m embarrassed to tell you that lots and lots of men have made love to me like a Frenchman, but there is no question in my mind that your husband has the best tongue.”

She smiled, “well, I’m pleased to know that over the years I trained him well. You know I taught him to beg to eat my pussy. Like a dog begs for a treat. That was so exciting; watching him, with almost tears in his eyes, when I explained I was having my period.”

“Oh, I’ll bet the wait was excruciating for him.”

“It was, Suzette, but just as excruciating for me, but when it was over, Francois was so hungry for my pussy.” She laughed.

“Hungry? Valerie, that’s a good word to describe what your husband is like when we’re in bed.”

The next morning, as Francois got between my legs, “is my Francois hungry for Suzette’s sweet pussy?” From then on, I said that all the time, and to my joy, Francois was always hungry.

Simone Romeaux was the same way; she wanted to know what her husband was like. “Suzette, it’s been so long; I’ve forgotten.”

Valerie was there, too. “Simone, Jean Pierre thinks that what I have between my legs deserves five stars from Michelin.”

“That’s what he tells me, but he tends to exaggerate.”

“The way he makes love like a Frenchman, he’s not exaggerating. Here’s the other thing, when he’s had enough for a while, his cock is as hard as it probably was when he was a teenager.”

“And so big. That was always the problem, it always hurt when he mounted me. I couldn’t take it.”

Valerie laughed, “is that why you became so good at making love like a French woman should?”

Simone blushed. “I guess the fact that my lips were always raw gave it away? Suzette, it doesn’t hurt when Jean Pierre fucks you?”

“Madames, since we don’t have much in the way of secrets, after all I know your husbands tongues and cocks as well as you do, I have to tell you.”

I hesitated.

They leaned forward.

“Even though I’m only twenty, my pussy has adjusted to accommodate your husbands’ huge cocks.” I told them about my sixth sense.

“You mean you only fuck men who are like Francois and Jean Pierre?” She held her hands almost a foot apart.

“I prefer men like them. I prefer blowing men like them. But those men like your husbands must and this is non-negotiable make love to my pussy like a Frenchman should.”

“And my Jean Pierre does that to you?” asked Simone.

“Simone, whatever pain I might have after Jean Pierre stretches my pussy, his soothing tongue makes it all go away.”

Valerie interrupted, “Francois, too?”

“Simone, I’ve told Valerie this before, but it bears repeating. Francois is always hungry; before, during, after. As soon as we get in bed, he’s hungry. Then, when he gets on top of me and his humongous cock starts and I’ll be seeing stars, he’ll say, “Suzette, your pussy is so good to fuck, but I’m still hungry.”

Valerie interrupted, “And when Francois’ finishes?”

“Oh yes, like you say, I’m a little sore, but his tongue is so soothing. He makes it all worthwhile.”

I don’t know if you think it was strange. I was talking about their husbands and these two women were my grandmother’s age. Weird, huh?

I stayed in Paris for three years. It was Valerie Dellacroix and Simone Romeaux who broke the news. Their husbands’ doctors told them their hearts could no longer stand the excitement that I brought them.

A year later I moved back to Montpelier. I didn’t need to work at the airport, but Charles and Daniel insisted on making love to me as only Frenchmen could and I made love to them as only a French woman can.

As always when I flew back to Montpelier, I had stars in my eyes, but soon my pussy was in dire need of cock. Daniel was the beneficiary of my needs. His long fat cock satisfied my pussy time and time again over the next few months. He liked it that I begged for it. “Daniel, are you ready to fuck me again. My pussy hasn’t had it for a few hours. Please.”

And Charles, who was almost as old as Francois and Jean Pierre, made me almost forget how good their tongues were. “Charles, for three years I haven’t had a wax, but if you keep making love to me like that, I’ll get it done every month; just for your tongue.”

In return they let me know when a private jet was arriving with a passenger, I might find interesting. Some were and with my sixth sense, I was able to enjoy a long, fat cock and a skillful tongue.

Sometimes for a night, sometimes for a weekend, but rarely longer than a week, except when Mr. Wang’s wonderful wang stayed for a month. He’d been denied my pussy for the three years I was in Paris. His tongue missed my pussy; he insisted on making up for it. His tongue couldn’t enough, but I still spent hours on my knees making love like a French woman to Mr. Wang’s wonderful wang. My pussy and Mr. Wang’s wonderful wang got reacquainted, too,

Life was good, but in the back of my mind there was something bothering me. For a few years, it had been there but I couldn’t identify it.

Then one day, a passenger named Raoul Martin’s private plane arrived at the airport. He was in his late thirties, almost ten years older than me, but my sixth sense told me that he didn’t have what I wanted and needed.

It hit me like a lightning bolt. Raoul Martin, Martin Tremont. In the back of my mind, it was Marty, the American, who I always thought of and compared to whoever I was fucking or blowing or was eating my pussy.

Men like Romeo, Yevgeny, Francois, and Wang were amazing lovers. Even the Italian, Romeo Masermino, the Taiwanese, Hu Wang and the Russian Yevgeny, knew how to make love to a woman like a Frenchmen: with their faces. And they all had long, fat cocks.

But they weren’t like Marty. There was something different about him. His cock wasn’t any longer or fatter. His tongue was marvelous, but not so much more marvelous than any of my other lovers. In fact, Francois ate pussy like no one else. Even the last time, when he was well into his seventies, he made me squeal constantly and he was always, I do mean always, hungry.

Even Francois wasn’t the Marty I remembered. I just had to find out if that was just a fantasy or if my memory was correct.

A year after my return from Paris, I checked into the Classic Hotel in Agde. After a long, hot bath, I knocked on Marty’s door.

If you read A DECADENT LIFE: MARTY TREMONT, you know we lived happily ever after.

THE END

COMING SOON: ANOTHER A DECADENT LIFE story

Do you like this story? If you do, you may be interested to know that the author also has several other stories on the site that are available to the members of the EroticStories.com FanClub!
Click here to read more about the FanClub.

Request from webmaster Art:
Don't forget to vote for this story in the yellow voting box below!
Authors really appreciate the votes and it only takes a few seconds!

Options: Plain text or PDF (fanclub only!) version for easy saving or printing

ESmail: Click here to send a private message to Thomas B (with ESmail, the site's internal message system)

Authors appreciate feedback! Please vote, and write to the authors to tell them what you liked or didn't like about the story!

Profile for Thomas B, incl. 108 stories Email: hstdr7522@outlook.com Add this author to your favorite author list Add this story to your favorite story list Send this story to me through email

Give your opinion about this part: (You can vote for each part separately) select here 1 (terrible) 2 .. 3 .. 4 .. 5 (reasonable) 6 .. 7 .. 8 .. 9 .. 10 (excellent)