Afternoon with a Princess

And that was all she wrote. When Cecilia's whole body went into convulsions, I felt the cum explode from my scrotum as I basted this beauty's hot cunt with a thick, creamy load of pent-up semen. I felt like my whole body was flowing out through my cock and into Cecilia's womb.

We grunted, groaned, laughed and sighed as the orgasmic waves washed over us, until finally we were sated, our lust spent -- at least for the moment.

Finally, I rolled off Cecilia's body and marveled at how much cum flowed out of her dilated pussy. I laid back and she rolled over to face me, her hair a tousled mess, her eyes sparkling with passion.

"Wow!" she giggled. "I'll bet you keep the girls at Florida mighty happy."

"I do all right," I deadpanned. "So let me ask you something. Do you do this a lot?"

"Do what a lot?" she said. "Fuck? Yeah, I like to fuck."

"No, I mean pick up strange men, bring them home and let them fuck you," I said. "That seems a bit dangerous, don't you think?"

"Actually, it's not," she said, tossing her hair back. "I have a keen eye for the American college guys, and I can spot one a mile away. I know they're going to be safe, and usually they don't get this far. Most of them come in my mouth when I give a blowjob. You're one of the few that actually got to fuck me."

"What happens to the ones who come too soon?" I asked, intrigued by this woman's complex personality.

"I usually send them away," she said with a laugh.

Then she got up and walked out of the bedroom, across the studio to the kitchen area. I heard her puttering around in there for a minute or two, then she returned with a cutting board that had a circle of cheese sitting on it, a bottle of wine and two glasses.

She poured some wine into each glass, cut some slices of cheese and we sat on her bed and lunched on wine and cheese. We fed each other slices of cheese and held each other's glass of wine while the other drank.

It was good, sturdy Swiss cheese, not that gooey stuff the French prefer, and the wine was a robust red.

After we had polished off the cheese, Cecilia poured another glass of wine and I sat back to contemplate the question that had been bugging me the whole time. Finally, I decided to just go with it.

"Does Jacques know you pick up college guys to fuck?" I asked. "What little I know about French men of means suggests that he probably wouldn't like it. Am I right?"

"Oh, he'd get over it, I suppose," she said. "But he would be very angry. It's all right for him to have several lovers, it's OK for him to pass me around to all of his friends while he watches, but for me have someone without him being there would be a blow to his pride."

"Then why risk it?" I said.

To my surprise, Cecilia got a sad, wistful look on her face that was totally at odds with the sparkle in her eyes.

"I don't know if I've ever told anyone this, because I'm not sure I've ever really understood why I do it," she said. "I guess it's something I can do that I have control of, something where I dictate the terms of my actions."

She took a deep breath, got a far-away look in her eyes and I swear I could see her eyes brimming with tears.

"My whole life, I've lived on the terms of others," she continued. "I went to Radcliffe to please my mother, because that was her school. I married Frederick to please my father, because Rick's dad was a business associate. I thought running off with Jacques would liberate me somehow, but he's just another man calling the shots in my life. My relationship with him is defined on his terms, at his behest. I see him when he wants me, not when I want him. In the meantime, I've turned my back on my family; they've disowned me. I still have a few friends in the States that I stay in touch with, but I haven't seen any of them since I left. I have a fair number of acquaintances over here, but that's all they are -- acquaintances. They're all friends of Jacques. I'm 29 years-old, I've never really been in love, never really had a man that truly cared for me, for my sake, rather than for his benefit. I just ... feel like I've hit a dead-end. So I pick up American college guys to remind me of the time when I didn't have any cares in the world, when my life was mine to be lived, not somebody else's. Does that make any sense?"

She was trying hard to maintain her imperious bearing, but I could see a couple of lonely tears coursing down her cheeks. I honestly felt sorry for her. Here she was, this princess, so to speak, living in her little castle all alone, with a distant lover and no family.

I guess she sensed my feelings, because she smiled then and let her maudlin thoughts fade away.

"That's why I immerse myself in drawing," she said. "When I paint, or draw, I can lose myself in my art. It's the only thing that really defines me, and I'd be lost without it."

The afternoon sun was still high in the sky, so I knew we had plenty of time left before I had to be back at my hotel. I had the answer to the questions that had been vexing me about Cecilia, and I wanted the rest of our time together to be more playful.

So I reached over, picked up the bottle of wine and suddenly poured just a little splash over each of her breasts.

Cecilia squealed in surprise, a squeal that turned to a purr as I quickly followed up with my mouth. I licked as much of the wine off her tits as I could get, then did it again.

"Mmmm, that feels wonderful," she said softly as I held her flesh to my mouth.

I could feel my cock growing by leaps and bounds, all the more so when Cecilia's hand began to softly stroke it into rampant hardness. I licked my way up her neck to her face, to her lips and we kissed again, slowly, but with an undercurrent of passion.

As she slowly jacked me back up to strength, I slid my hand into her swampy pie and found her bloated clit, standing tall out of its hood.

Cecilia looked at me with some longing when we broke our lip lock.

"Reese?" she said softly. "Make love to me, please? I can fuck any time I want, but I haven't had a man really make love to me in so long I've almost forgotten what it feels like."

"Jacques doesn't make love to you?" I said, intrigued.

"Not really," she said. "Oh, he's a good lover, as far as technique goes, and he can make me come in buckets with his mouth. He's also got a pretty nice cock, but when he gets up to fucking me, there isn't a lot of passion there. It's all about his performance, and there isn't much love there. And then there are the parties..."

"Baby, if you were my woman, I'd love you every chance I could," I said in a voice thick with emotion. "Sure, Cecilia, I'll make love to you. I'll give you what you need."

And with that I rolled her onto her back and swooped onto her body. My lips found hers and we kissed with something deep, something animalistic. We were connecting on some astral plane, two ships from wildly different ports crashing together for a single moment in time.

As we kissed, I gently stroked her pussy, opening her folds and lightly thumbing her clit. My rock-hard, throbbing cock was leaving trails of pre-cum all over her thigh, but I was in no hurry. If this princess wanted me to love her, well, by God, I was going to give her everything I had.

I could feel her breath quickening, as her arousal began to mount, and she seemed to come to herself then, because she got a really hot look in her eyes, rolled me onto my back and straddled my hips as she held my cock tightly at the base. She fit the head of my cock to her drooling slit and slid her pussy onto my cock in one delicious plunge.

We both groaned, then laughed as she slowly began to work her body up and down, while I slowly worked my hips up and down in a thrusting motion, filling her with my meat.

Cecilia's hands were gripping the sides of my chest, and they were softly, sensually caressing my skin as she threw her head back, swishing her long auburn locks back, and gave voice to her mounting passion.

There was nothing intelligible in what she was saying, just a lot of grunts, groans, gasps and squeals. But I understood perfectly the language of love she was speaking.

Her cunt was like a wet velvet vise massaging my iron-hard cock, and she was in her element now. I was giving her something she hadn't had in a long time -- real passion, for her, not the man she happened to be with.

I think she'd gotten so used to by-the-numbers sex that when I came along with a whole different attitude, it did something to her. And I could see the lust, the love -- even if it was only for a moment -- written all over her face.

As much as I wanted to stay in that position, I needed to be in control. I wanted to govern how long and when I finally cut loose with my climax. So I rolled her over, then got her on her knees, with her ass in the air.

I knelt behind Cecilia, and marveled at the angry red hole that winked up at me, wet and inviting. I felt a chill run through my body as I saw her look back at me with passion etched on her beautiful face.

"Love me, Reese!" she cried. "Love me good and make me feel something."

I was going to do that. I settled in behind her and slid my cock back into her burning gash. And now I began to fuck her with a hard, steady pace, and I cold see her head lolling about as her climax picked up steam.

I leaned over and captured her right tit with one hand, and slid my other down her abdomen to the place where we were joined. I pressed my index finger onto her fat clit, and when I did that all hell broke loose.

Cecilia started wailing and shaking from her head to her toes, and I just kept at it, stroking her clit as the orgasm rocked her to her core. My cock was a churning piston of lust, almost as if it was detached from my body, a living thing all its own.

"Aiiiiii!" she wailed. "C-c-c-c-come innnnnn meeeeee! I neeeeeeeed iiiiiiiit!"

I was ready. I pulled my hand away from her super-sensitive clit, clamped both hands on her perfect butt and gave her everything I had left to give. Sweat poured off our bodies as I hurtled to the finish, and I couldn't hold it back any longer.

I gave out a gasping cry as I lurched forward one final time, then spewed a torrent of white-hot cum deep in Cecilia's spastic cunt. We both cried out almost desperately in our release, as if we were unwilling to acknowledge the approaching end of our dance of love.

But finally, it was over, and we both slumped forward onto the bed, still joined, still panting the dregs of our climax. At last, my cock slithered out of Cecilia's pussy and we rolled into a spoon position.

I just held her there for a long time, and I don't know, maybe she was crying. But we just lay there lost in our own afterglow.

After a time, she turned to me, and I could see her eyes were indeed shining and her cheeks were indeed wet.

"I wish I'd met someone like you eight, nine years ago," she said softly. "It's been a mighty long time since I've experienced something like this."

"You can always come back to Florida with me," I said, and I may have even meant it.

She gave a soft laugh that was tinged with sadness.

"Don't tempt me," she said. "No, Reese, I'm not the woman for you. I'd eventually break your heart, like I did Rick's, like I did my parents. I'm trouble, and I can't stay tied down. I'm near the end of my time here in Paris, and I'll probably go back to the States. Maybe I'll try to patch things up with my folks, set myself up in a studio in Cambridge or Stockbridge or some place like that. I've got a pretty good nest egg saved up, and I can use that to live on until I get back on my feet."

"Cecilia, don't sell yourself short," I said. "You're a hell of a woman, and someday you'll find someone who won't try to tie you down, but who will simply love you. If I was five years older, I'd give it a try. But ..."

"You are something else," she said then with a laugh. "Regardless of what happens, I'll always have a spot in my heart for you. You've done something I didn't think was possible. You've made me feel something again, and I'll always remember you for that."

We got up then and showered, and had a little fun with the detachable nozzle, which is about all the shower they have there, then I casually dressed while Cecilia pulled on a little shift. In that moment, she was as sexy as she'd been all day.

Then she saw me to the door, giving me a warm kiss goodbye. I looked back one last time before I headed down the stairs, and I could swear I saw her dabbing at her eyes.

We exchanged addresses, and we've stayed in tenuous contact. About every three or four months, I get a letter from her, just letting me catch up with her, and I've let her keep up with me. I've sent her copies of some of my better photos, and she seems to enjoy getting them.

She did indeed break it off with Jacques, not long after I left, and returned to Boston. Her family did accept her back, sort of like the prodigal daughter, and she got a job as an art teacher at Bentley College.

She also said she's actually dating a guy, a history professor, and she thinks it might turn serious. I hope it does. She deserves to be happy.

Cecilia was one of the most fascinating people I've ever met, a complex woman who would be difficult to manage, so I hope her new boyfriend knows what he's getting into.

Me? I graduated from the university and quickly got a job with the paper in Orlando. I've got a steady girlfriend, really for the first time, and we're starting to talk about a future together.

I don't know how much my life changed because of my encounter with Cecilia. I think I discovered a capacity to love that afternoon that I may not have had before, and it certainly boosted my ego to know I could not only please a goddess like her, but change her whole outlook on life.

Regardless of whether it had any serious meaning, though, it was a memorable experience, probably the best sex I'd ever had up to that point. My girlfriend is certainly benefiting from the things I learned that hot afternoon.

I made love to a princess that day, and I have the picture to prove it.