My French lover - Sex Stories

My French lover

Marco was only supposed to stay a couple of weeks. He is a friend of Mike’s from his old school days. Marco is French and comes to England every now and then to see mike. They both take it in turns, with Mike going to stay in France on the return visit. Marco is fairly well off and doesn’t need to work, unlike Mike and I, who still have to make a living. During his stay we would both go off to work during the week and leave him to his own devices, getting together on the weekends and evenings to catch up. Marco is a very handsome man. He is tall with dark hair, brown eyes and a golden tan. His gorgeous colour has been achieved by the many hours spent sunbathing back home in France. Marco is not shy to say the least and would always be found wandering around the house in a semi naked state, wearing just loose shorts or something casual. He has a fine athletic build for a man in his late forties, lovely defined muscles, a body an athlete might have. He does run every morning before breakfast and on returning home, he always showers before joining us for breakfast. Now I had never really thought of him in a sexual way before, though he is always a bit of a flirt with the girls, with his accent and good looks but on this particular morning something happened. It was Saturday and Mike had gone in early to finish a job leaving me to do the housework. Marco had been on his run and had come into the kitchen wearing just his towel having just had his shower. It was a small towel ...

... and came just above his knees. He was still damp and the water was trickling down his chest over his six pack. I traced its path with my eyes as it made its way down to the top of the towel. The towel was perched on his hips, just covering the line of his pubic hair. He has that lovely “V” shape pointing to his pelvis. I felt a sudden twinge in my pussy as I studied his body. It felt wrong lusting for him as we had known each other a while. I had only studied him briefly but it felt too long. I turned and carried on with the breakfast. I was only wearing a light cotton robe myself that finished mid-thigh. I was completely naked underneath. The gown is white and always clings to my pert firm breasts, following their every contour. You can normally make out my nipples as they press against the cloth. This was my normal attire for Saturday mornings as I was normally home alone. So, here I was, only a few feet from a handsome man. I was normally dressed when he came down for breakfast and felt slightly vulnerable as he sat at the table behind me. The fact I had nothing on under my robe, made me slightly self-conscious. I could feel my chest starting to go red and my heart beat faster. I didn’t know what to do. Should I excuse myself and go and change, or just act normal? What if he had caught me staring at him? I didn’t know what to do next. “Good morning gorgeous, how are you this morning?” he said with his sexy French accent. I turned and smiled. “I’m fine, how was your run?” I ...