It was never too late for a first time. That’s what Lacy thought.
After a few days in Montreal, the strangeness of this new, foreign city no longer overwhelmed her. She loved hearing people speak in French as they drank espresso and nibbled chocolate croissants in cafes. Even the parking signs were a glorious challenge that made her double-check if she was following the city rules or not. Promoted at work six months earlier, she traveled one week every month. Conferences in Boston, advertising pitches in Seattle, or now in Montreal, as part of a special digital media panel at McGill College.
On her last day, she thought about Todd back home in Portland, Oregon—3,000 miles away. Judging by the number of texts he sent the night before, he sorely missed her. But ever since she accepted her new role as Creative Director, things with Todd were not the same. Once they had a roaring fire of lust and love, fucking five, six, or sometimes seven times a week. But that blaze had since dampened.
Todd worked from home as a freelance writer, occupying their living room as his home office, so it was not uncommon for him to cook their dinners. His commute to or from work was nonexistent. Those days seemed only a recent memory—their evenings rife with surprise and desire. A long-time fan of Anthony Bourdain, Todd wished to write his own book of travel cooking, but until then, he was satisfied with surprising Lacy with a gourmet meal in their small apartment. She often returned home exhausted—but still high from whatever Nike or Clairol campaign she was working on—to an apartment wonderfully reeking of pan-fried garlic and homemade spaghetti sauce bubbling on the stove.
Todd would say, “The noodles will be ready in five.”
And; “Bet I could get yours ready faster,” Lacy would tease.
But he continued to hover at the pot of roiling linguine, steam fogging his wire-rimmed glasses.
Looks like we have a few minutes to play before we eat
A rower in college, he still had sinewy arms and veiny hands. Lacy loved his long fingers and watching him peel bulbs of garlic—tenderly fondling each one.
“What was that?” Todd asked.
“Looks like we have a few minutes to play before we eat,” she said, dropping her workbag on the couch and kneeling on the kitchen floor between him and the stove.
Even though they’d been dating for four years, she could get him hard in seconds. Sometimes she wished it would take more than her cheek to graze his cock, but in times like this she had no time to massage his soft member with her velvety tongue, flicking the tip with butterfly licks, charming him into stiffness from end to end. Right now, she wanted him at the ready.
Lacy had been told since her first blowjob, as a junior in high school, that she possessed the perfect combination of sweet and rough suction. And with Todd in the kitchen, she did not disappoint. Taking the length of his fully erect cock into her mouth, she salivated, licking the underside of his balls before gagging—ever so slightly, and maybe more for his amusement—but keeping his rock hard dick pressed to the back of her throat. Lacy tugged his balls and rolled them between her fingers as she pumped him between her lips. With her free hand, she braced the base, and spit dribbled down her chin and across her fingers. Todd was not shy about sliding her hand from his balls to his asshole, where she instinctively rubbed the puckered rim with her pointer finger.
He moaned, and she knew it was time to let that finger wander and pressed his butthole like an ignition button.
She paused for a second to say, “It’s too tight,” but Todd seized the bottle of virgin olive oil bottle from the counter, pouring a stream over her fingers. Lacy doused his asshole and easily slid her finger inside. She felt his balls contract and tightened her fingers around his base, freezing him place.
“Not so fast, big boy,” she said, and Todd yanked her to her feet, and sat her on the counter, her legs dangling off.
Together they shimmied her pencil skirt above her hips. She pulled her soaked black panties to one side, her pussy lips puffy, and he barely had time to guide the head of his cock into her before he came copiously. He continued thrusting as she wrapped her arms around him. It would only be a few moments before she joined him in ecstasy; Lacy was always quick to orgasm. Just knowing his hot release was inside of her was enough to send her into her own hip-shaking thrill.
But after Lacy accepted her promotion, her new role took her around the country—one week a month, from city to city—and those hot nights with Todd became a thing of the past.
On the final day of the three-day conference at McGill College, Lacy gazed around the room of presenters and attendees—mostly professors and students—and wondered how many had their own like Todd at home.
She hated when friends complained about their sex lives, how their boyfriends or husbands were constantly horny while they were too tired after a day in the office. Lacy found that logic entirely frustrating. It wasn’t a chore to suck Todd’s cock, and it certainly didn’t take long to get him to blow his load. Each occasion could be as long or short as she desired. She was in complete control; she preferred it like that.
But as she scanned the room, she was struck with a feeling that everyone around her was incredibly lucky, able to get to their partner that night. What she wouldn’t give to call an Uber and dart across the city to Todd. She considered herself sex-positive—loved giving as much as receiving—though at times her desires were too much for her lovers. Still, she never had a problem with Todd.
Reading over his texts from the night before, it was obvious he’d been thinking the same, even if his messages started off innocent.
“Miss you babe.”
“Thinking of you.”
“Hope you’re having a great time.”
“Wish I could transport there.”
“The things I’d do to you.”
“Gah, I’m really getting myself worked up. Should stop now.”
“Can’t stop. OMG, I need to fuck you.”
“Wow, you’re 3,000 miles away and got me off in record time!”
When Lacy woke up that morning to his confessions, she had immediately slid her fingers into her panties to rub one out, and she texted back, “Thanks for the morning quickie, luv. Your messages did the trick. Xoxo. But I’ll need a real cock next time.”
As the conference officially ended, Lacy thanked her hosts—starting with Dr. Lou Dupresne, who was nearing retirement, and three associate professors—who organized the event. They invited her for drinks, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to sit still, not after re-reading Todd’s messages.
“If you change your mind,” Dr. Dupresne said—his white hair wild like a mad scientist, “we’ve got eight o’clock reservations at Manitoba.”
“That really does sound lovely,” Lacy said, because staying in at her Airbnb was wholly depressing, but right night she needed time alone. “I need to freshen up. But it was a wonderful conference. I learned so much.”
“We certainly hope to see you tonight,” Dr. Dupresne said, cordially shaking her hand.
“You too,” she said, and she meant it.
With such pent up energy, Lacy bypassed the Uber ride, instead deciding a walk would calm her. Hip bars and cafes peppered every block, but she knew a stiff drink around so many attractive people would only make her hornier, so Lacy did what any woman on the verge of rubbing herself against the first hot Montreal man she saw would do: she ducked into a grocery store. Surely, scanning aisles of canned vegetables and bright boxes of microwavable dinners would hush anyone into mindless submission. But then, when she walked down the produce aisle—passing eggplants, bananas, and cucumbers—she could not unshackle what was really on her mind. She stood over a display of Roma tomatoes, rolling one over in her fingers. The tight skin covering its supple, juicy fruit reminded her of Todd’s balls.
“Get it together,” she said, but even while she scolded herself she watched a shopper, a man with tightly cropped salt and pepper hair choose the perfect cantaloupe. He fondled each melon, putting those that were too firm or bruised down for one that was firm but gave if squeezed hard enough. The man was shorter than Todd and easily a decade older, but he had the same sinewy arms and strong hands. The way he handled each piece of produce was evidence enough that he’d be a great lover; he paid particular attention to every single detail. She would never cheat on Todd, would she? But the thought did not stop her from lingering while he stood in line or chatted-up the cashier, and it did not stop Lacy from trailing him down the sidewalk, not too close for him to notice.
Hoisting a paper bag of groceries in one arm, he waved to the people in his neighborhood that called his name as he passed.
“What’s happening, Fabrice?” they said.
“Quoi de neuf?” he said. What’s up?
Lacy thought, He’s going to see you, and then how are you supposed to explain yourself?
She would never cheat on Todd, would she?
But she was carried away by the adventure of finding out where this handsome salt and pepper Montreal man named Fabrice lived. Never the bad girl, it made her wet to fantasize about a one-night affair in a foreign city across the country. A secret moment all for herself—for her to share if she wanted or to hold onto forever. She ached now and needed to get back to her Airbnb. She wasn’t sure she’d even get her door closed behind her before slipping her hand into her underwear to take care of herself. But she’d come this far and needed to know where Fabrice called home.
The suspense was quickly quenched when he paused before a beautiful brick townhouse with an iron gate. He reached into his pocket for his keys, and he noticed the elegant, slim woman in the pencil skirt that had been trailing him. He flashed her a smile, but the pleasantry lasted only a second, because then Fabrice slid the right key into the lock and pushed the door open.
What are you doing? Lacy thought, even as she quickened her pace and followed Fabrice into his foyer. The door closed shut behind them, and they stood face to face.
She was acting like a completely different person. This was not the Lacy she knew, but maybe it was the Lacy she wanted to be. The bigwig Lacy with the fancy job and the company credit card and the ability to say, “I want that” and get it. No man in their right mind would attempt what she was attempting.
As if they had prepared themselves for this chance encounter all of their lives, neither of them said a word. Instead, Lacy was compelled to know more about him. Not just his name or where he lived but what his cock looked like. She had never done anything like this, at least not while dating Todd. They were entirely happy together. But here she was, and she could not explain it.
Still holding the grocery bag, Fabrice did not move as Lacy fell to her knees. As if a clock was against her, she raced to unfasten his belt buckle. Maybe if she was quick about it, it would mean less or weigh less on her conscience. She tugged his jeans down and folded over the cotton band of his briefs. His cock spilled out onto her palm. She held his soft circumcised dick as if it was meant to be cherished, and she peck-kissed the smooth pink head. He did make an effort to set down his grocery bag, and Lacy flicked her tongue around the circumference of his corona, gently encasing the head between her lips. She closed her eyes, and for a moment it was Todd, except this man was slow to grow in her mouth. Lacy loved the challenge so she could show off her skills. She would normally begin by massaging Todd’s balls, but instead she slid her fingers up the back of Fabrice’s thighs, grabbing his ass and slowly rocking his hips back and forth, pushing and pulling his half-hard cock into her mouth. As she drew him in, she flattened her tongue to taste every inch, and as she pushed him back she was sure to suck down hard on the head. This little tease did the trick because his cock was only three inches when she began, but it was now over eight, the shaft thicker than the tip. Fabrice mumbled in French, and his arm began to shake from the weight of the groceries, but he shifted the bag into his opposite arm as Lacy continued to work her magic.
Now that he was fully hard, she cupped Fabrice’s balls, gently stroking them and soon they would constrict, and she appreciated what that meant. She did not know many words in French, but she knew from the road signs what would get his attention.
“Arrêt,” she said.
At the sound of her voice, they stared into one another’s eyes. Lacy noticed the white stubble on his chin. Maybe he was fifty, which easily made her twenty years younger, but that did not mean she could not teach an old dog new tricks.
His cock was longer than Todd’s, but she could fit most of him into her mouth. When it tapped the back of her throat, Fabrice dropped the grocery bag, fresh produce tumbling across the floor, but it did not matter. A Roma tomato lay at his feet.
Ever since she began traveling for her job, she had the luxury of living a completely separate life. Going out to dinner where she wanted, sleeping on the side of the bed she wanted, watching the movie at night she wanted. It was a pattern of taking what pleased her, and though she could have anything she wanted when she was leading this second life, the only thing that was ever missing was being fucked when and how she wanted.
Lacy stood and wiggled her panties down, spinning on her heels, and thrusting back against Fabrice. With one hand she used the tip of his swollen member like a paintbrush against her wet lips. He must’ve yearned to feel her pussy, but she had other plans. His dick glistened with saliva and pre-cum as she teased her asshole. It was something she kept from Todd. In her younger days, she let men fuck her ass to blow their minds. But with Todd, she wanted to save something for later in their relationship. A surprise, maybe.
Wet enough, she easily took his first centimeter inside her, and a spike of unforgettable pain and pleasure rushed through her body—just like the first time. Fabrice tried helping, but she said, again, “Arrêt”; and he did not argue.
Motionless like a well-trained dog, he waited for Lacy’s next command. She allowed him another centimeter deeper, and the same stinging desire shot up her spine. She knew when the entire head was enclosed in her tight asshole, the ache would vanish, and she would only feel his fullness. That was the beauty of anal sex.
He made his way further and further inside of her, and now that he was in her ass could she truly appreciate the shape of this man’s cock. Unlike Todd, whose head was thicker than his shaft, Fabrice was the opposite, and the more she let him enter her the lower she dropped her jaw, breathless, and uncertain as to how much she could take. But she wanted it all, and she could not wait any longer.
“Fuck me,” she said, “fuck me hard,” and like a trained pet at his dinner bowl waiting to hear it was okay to eat, Fabrice lunged into action. He kicked the stray Roma tomato as he gripped her by the hips, his entire cock disappearing. Because of her narrow hips and slim ass, his cock looked huge.
Lacy tucked her hand between her legs and rubbed her clit. Quick to cum, she rattled off an orgasm, tightening her ass enough to nearly eject his dick, but he held strong, surviving like a bull rider lasting the full eight seconds. In that moment Fabrice was a bareback champion, but he might not last a second run if Lacy had another ass-clenching orgasm. He reached up her blouse, grabbing her B-cups. Unlike the tenderness Lacy had witnessed when Fabrice inspected the organic melons, he now clutched her firm tits, pinching her stiff nipples. His hands were strong, which sent an immediate shockwave between her legs. Fabrice was ready for her second orgasm as he, too, released a jet of cum in her ass.
Unable to keep Fabrice inside of her, Lacy’s asshole released his finished cock. Fabrice fumbled to straighten her skirt and blouse, but she bent over in front of him, picking up the Roma tomato, and she took a small bite. The skin broke easily, the juice trailing over her lips. She held it for Fabrice, who leaned in and took one last bite, never to see Lacy again.
The next day, she flew back to Portland. It was a long day of flying, but she had no problem sleeping on the plane. She thought she would probably not tell Todd because she didn’t want to hurt him. But they had talked about threesomes in the past; maybe she would bring it up to him if the time was ever right.
Waiting for her luggage to round the carousel in the airport, Lacy noticed a slim man with salt and pepper hair. In the past, he would’ve never caught her eye, not like it did now, and she felt a tingle between her legs.
It was after midnight when she got home. The apartment was dark, and she heard Todd breathing. Puppy snores, she called them. Too exhausted to shower, she slid out of her leggings, sweatshirt, and bra. In bed, she did not know how to feel. But when he pressed against her—the warmth of his body followed by his breath on her neck – she knew she was where she was supposed to be.
But then she felt his cock pressing against her ass.
“I missed you,” he said, and she wasn’t sure if he was sleep talking.
“Shh,” she said, “it’s late.”
A hand slid around her hip, rubbing her pubic hair.
“But I really missed you,” he said. “And you’re so wet.”
“I’m tired,” she said, but she caught herself.
How many times did she curse her friends who used that excuse? It was true, she was 100% tired, but she was wet—maybe from thinking about Fabrice.
She wanted him to savor her
“I want to taste you,” Todd said, moving his hand to his mouth.
After traveling all day, she did not want him to taste her pussy like that.
“No,” she said. “You don’t want to.”
But he did want to. Whether it was first thing in the morning or after a workout, Todd loved her taste. She heard him lick his fingers, and she knew what she had to do.
Lacy flopped onto her back and reached for the nape of his neck, pushing his head down. With perfect obedience, he followed her lead. He stroked his cock, his hand working faster the closer his nose got to her pussy. His chin brushed her public hair as he pulled her panties to the side. He was ready to dive in, but she was not. She wanted him to savor her, to fill his nostrils with her sweet, tart smell. He moaned and tugged his cock harder, yearning to bury his tongue inside her.
She reached between her legs and covered her pussy.
“Arrêt,” she said.
Todd said, “Is that French?”
He worked his face down and jabbed his tongue into her asshole. She wondered if it still tasted like Fabrice’s cock. God, it made her wet to think of both men at once. The thought nearly shook her, but she held back, knowing how much Todd liked it when she came in his mouth, bucking against his chin.
She did not know if she would see Fabrice again, or if there would ever be another man like him in her life. But perhaps she would always be the best he had ever had. She would be the vixen that had rocked his world, and it was because she had taken what she wanted when she wanted.
Todd waited, trained so well. How long would she make him stay like that, on the verge of blowing a load in his hand?
“Okay,” she said. “Lick me.”