London, the city of SEX! - Sex Stories

London, the city of SEX!

... ever? Yes it would. Within perhaps two or three blissful minutes, Tom's cock started to twitch. But Michele was ready. Another couple of deft pumps, and then her mouth was engulfing his erupting cock and she was greedily swallowing his warm cum. 'Hmm,' she said afterwards. 'Like warm pastis. But without zee anise.' And, again, she smiled. Tom consoled himself with the fact that at least his cock was no longer sticking up like the flagstaff on the stern of a battleship. Mind you, how long it would remain quiet was anyone's guess. When you are 19, flaccidity is only ever temporary. Tom tried not to think about it. 'Come and tell me all about your new job while I finish preparing zee supper,' Michele said, leading the way to the kitchen. Yes. Yes, that might help, Tom thought. And then to make things even better, Michele slipped back into her apron - although that still meant he had a tantalising view of her shapely arse. Oh well. While Michele took some boiled potatoes, added hot milk, mashed them, added a generous pinch of salt and a slightly less generous pinch of white pepper, added a few cubes of cold butter, and then whipped them with a balloon whisk, Tom told Michele about his current role with the agency's production department and his future hopes with the creative department. He didn't mention Laura. 'It sounds more exciting than being a baker,' Michele said, as she started expertly zesting an orange and a lemon, and finely chopping a bunch of flat-leaf parsley. 'I'd ...

... be pretty happy to be able to cook like you,' Tom said. Michele just smiled. Supper was Daube de Boeuf Provençal - a slow-cooked stew of beef and vegetables in red wine, served with bright orange chunks of carrot over the creamy whipped potato, and sprinkled with fresh parsley and citrus zest. And there was a glass or two of Grenache-dominated Côtes du Rhône Villages to help it on its way. Tom thought that it was quite possibly the best stew that he had ever had, maybe even the best meal that he had ever had. For afters, Michele had made a tarte Tatin. Not surprisingly, it too was brilliant: both soft and crisp, sweet yet tangy. By the time they had finished eating supper, Tom had almost forgotten that Michele was naked. Yes she was an attractive woman. But being attractive didn't necessarily mean sexually arousing, he told himself. He even managed to glance appreciatively across the table at her breasts without causing any disturbance below. But then she spoiled everything. Or at least she changed everything. She began by topping up their glasses. 'Not much point in keeping zis little bit,' she said. And then she pushed back her chair, rose to her feet, and went and sat in an armchair facing Tom. 'It was alright?' she said. 'Zee supper?' 'It was fabulous,' Tom said. 'Yes, fabulous.' Michele spread her legs. 'You are too kind, mon chéri,' she said. Oh-oh. Tom felt his cock start to rise again. 'I think that you are looking at my pussy,' Michele said. 'It is nice, no?' Nice? ...