My First Night Back in Paris

Info Tristan LeMay
28 Oct. '16

When my paternal grandfather died last year, he left me a 10-room, 18th century mansion that has been in the LeLorier family for two centuries. I had always dreamed of owning a house in Paris, the city where I was born and where I studied with some of the finest chefs in the world, but I had invested all my savings in the two restaurants I owned in Montreal and I never thought my grandfather would leave me this amazing piece of real estate.

   I hadn’t been back to Paris in over a decade and, although I remembered seeing the property in passing in the 5th arrondissement, I had never been inside before because in all the years I had spent in Paris, grand-papa had been doing humanitarian work in Rwanda.

   The place was absolutely magnificent and my first thought when I entered was what an incredible bed and breakfast it could easily be turned into. Since I was a bit jetlagged and felt I needed a shower, I decided I’d visit the ground floor after I’d cleaned up and had a good rest. Usually, I would have walked up the magnificent staircase to the first floor where I knew was the ‘espace parental’ or parent quarters with a double bathroom and a double dressing room.

   Thank goodness, the notaire who had taken care of grand-papa‘s will had also taken care of hiring a temporary staff that had not only cleaned the place from top to bottom but had also made sure I wouldn’t move into an empty house. They had purchased everything I needed as far as toiletries and amenities. I felt like I was moving into a five-star hotel.

   The shower was clearly not from the 18th century. It had been recently renovated and updated. It could easily have accommodated four people with two independent shower heads to cover most of the floor surface. I took off my funky clothes and placed them on the Louis Cinq chair next to the toilet. When I unstuck my sweaty balls from the inside of my thighs, I realized how much good this shower would do.

   I heard a grandfather clock chime 10 times and spontaneously looked down at my watch. I was still on Montreal time and, there, it was 10 in the morning. So why would the grandfather clock in Paris chime 10 times? Shouldn’t it have chimed 4 times to indicate that it was 4 in the afternoon… or 16 times to indicate international time? I knit my brow then shrugged, my brain fried and needing to rest, not solve strange time mysteries.

   I fell in love with the lavender body wash that had been purchased and even took the time to read the label so I could learn more about it. When I finished washing and rinsing my hair, I turned toward the glass door of the shower and was startled by a silhouette that almost made me slip and fall. My eyes widened and I used my hand to wipe some of the fog from the glass to see a little better. Could this be one of the employees the notary had hired? If so, what was she doing walking into the bathroom when the sound of the water coming from the shower should have been a red flag not to enter.

   – Bonjour… ? I said, with an undeniable interrogation in my tone, wanting to clearly indicate the ‘what the fuck are you doing in here?’ tone of my inquiry, all the while making sure I didn’t startle her as much as I’d been startled to see her.

   I clearly saw her turn around and come toward me and thought: ‘Okay, I’m not a prudish guy but still… thank goodness this see-through glass door is completely fogged up.’

     – Monsieur LeLorier… Oh mon dieu, pardonnez-moi ! Vous n’étiez pas censé me voir.

   I would clearly have thought that I was not supposed to see her, yes. But that didn’t make it okay for her to be in there.

     – Vous avez besoin d’un drap de bain… ? she asked.

   Well, yes, I would need a bath towel. And I had planned on walking over to the pile of them on the beautiful wood table near the wash-hand basin. But now that a strange woman was standing right there, I couldn’t come out of the shower without exposing more than I had planned on my first day back in Paris!

      – Pas maintenant, merci, I replied, hoping she would leave.

   Instead, she opened the shower door while asking if I needed help washing myself or rinsing myself off. My hands went straight for my private parts, cupping my cock and balls to hide them from her. It was harder to do than I thought because my cock was harder than I thought. She didn’t even acknowledge how rude and forward it was to intrude on my privacy and just looked me up and down, as if it were the most natural thing to do. She then told me what I already knew: that I wasn’t done rinsing off. My body was still covered in lavender body wash lather and my hair wasn’t properly rinsed out.

   She started undressing and that’s when I noticed her clothes looked like something out of an episode of Downton Abbey.

   – Je vais vous aider, she said.

   Help me? But this was crazy!

   As she took her frumpy maid’s clothes off, she stared at me as though she was stripping in a show at the Moulin Rouge. When she released her breasts from the top of corset, I got a look at the great white globes of flesh that had been squeezed into the dress. They seemed heavy yet her nipples were clearly aroused and pointing at me. She unlaced the front of her dress and the garment slipped to the floor, exposing her beautiful, milky legs and out-dated granny panties that I would probably have found horrible in any other circumstance but that somehow intrigued me… and my cock, which started rising from a semi-erection to a full-blown hard-on.

   – I’m sorry, I said, looking down at my boner.

   She chuckled and said, in French:

   – You like what you see?

   I certainly wasn’t going to insult her by saying I didn’t and, even if I had, it would have been a lie. She started walking toward me playing with the elastic band around her waist. As she walked, she turned around slowly, as though she had been a carousel or… a barber’s pole. But much sexier. I caught a glimpse of the top of her butt crack and my cock twitched. When she got to the threshold of the shower door, her back was turned to me and she bowed forward to push down her knickers – as our British neighbors would have called them – and her buttocks brushed against my wet, hard pole.

   When she turned around, my eyes zeroed in on her full, dark bush and I thought to myself, ‘My, it’s been a while since I’ve seen one like that.' Girls nowadays are so quick to shave or peel off their pubes. She walked straight to me and pressed her breasts against the bottom of my rib cage. She grazed her nipples against my hairy body and writhed a bit, making the head of my cock rub against the short, coarse pubes at the top of her pussy.

   She slid down my body without releasing her glance. She got into a squat position with her knees widely spread. She took hold of my rock-hard penis and, instead of taking it in her mouth as I was expecting, she used it as a lever to turn me around. She rinced my manhood off and used her other hand to twist me back around the other way, still holding on to my cock as though it was a handle.

. Then, she went down on me, licking, sucking and slurping loudly as she made my knees buckle. I moaned with great pleasure. Although she looked like she might be from a bygone era, she certainly gave oral sex like an experienced woman of our time.

   After a moment, she slithered back up the front of my body and spun herself around, positioning my pole for it to slide effortlessly into her wet, willing pussy.

   – Baisez-moi, monsieur LeLorier, baisez-moi ! Oui ! Prenez-moi toute entière !

   She reached back to grab my hands and placed them on her generous tits. Maybe it was the slipperiness of the water, but I think the size of them was also a factor. I wasn’t able to hold on completely. Like a small child trying to hold a basketball in one hand. She had started pounding her rear against my pelvic bone, ramming her pussy with my piercing sword.

   Since she was doing most of the work, I just held on by gently pinching her thimble-hard nipples. She moaned.

   – Oui, maître LeLorier! Oui. Prenez-moi. Mmmmm…. Oui! Je vous aime, Victor.

   For a moment, I snapped out of the bliss I was feeling, taken aback by the fact she had just told me she loved me and had called me Victor, my grandfather’s name. What was going on here? Had this vibrant, gorgeous woman been having an affair with my grandfather before his death? That would have been too weird.

   She pulled herself off me and spun around, standing on her toes to plant a wet, passionate kiss on my lips. Then, she kicked up her left leg like a cancan girl and grabbed it by the ankle, placing it firmly against my shoulder and slipping my hard sausage inside her gooey oyster.

   – Faites-moi un enfant, Victor, she shouted.

   What? She wanted me to get her pregnant? What was going on here? I couldn’t believe what I was hearing nor what I was experiencing. Was this a scheme or a ruse to trap the rich heir of the valuable LeLorier estate? But why was she calling me Victor?

   I couldn’t resist the amazing feeling of having my hard cock inside this beautiful soubrette so I started pumping my piston inside her like I desperately wanted millions of little Frédéricks to burst out of my virile missile and track down miss – I-didn’t-even-know-her-name’s egg so that we could create the next generation of LeLoriers. What the heck was getting into me?

   Before I could answer that question, I felt the maid’s pussy start to spasm around my hard pole and suck the semen into her baby canal. We both screamed with delight and passion, and I was taken out of the moment for a second, wondering if anybody else was in the house and could have heard our indiscretion.

   The maid pushed her pussy forward again three times against my groin, as if she were trying to pull out the last drops of man seed or if she was milking the last few spurts of electricity out of her own orgasm.

   Then, seemingly content, she lathered up a sort of loofa sponge and cleaned me from head to toe. Once I had brushed the water out of my eyes, she had vanished.

   – Allô ? I asked, only to get the echo from the bathroom to answer me.

   What a strange experience this was turning out to be.


   Once I’d dried off and picked up my dirty clothes to bring it up to the next floor, in search of what would no doubt become my bedroom for the next two weeks, I heard the grandfather clock chime again. This time, it rang six times. I caught my face looking puzzled in one of the antique mirrors in the hallway. I shook my head and shrugged before looking around the hallways to see if I could catch a glimpse of the hot maid who had called me by grand-papa‘s name while she made love to me vertically. There was just no sign of her.

   When I got to the top of the staircase leading to the second floor, where the master suite and four bedrooms were, I heard strange moaning coming from one of the bedrooms. At first, my spine tingled and I was a bit scared. The sounds were akin to throaty, guttural moans from the afterlife. After the strange – almost ‘out of body’ – sexual experience I’d just gone through in the shower, my brain was starting to play tricks on me. Then, as I came closer to the bedroom door, the sounds were less and less scary and more and more arousing.

   I had the impression I was hearing two women… in the throes of passion.

   – What the hell is going on? This house is supposed to be empty!

   I pressed my ear to the door, feeling guilty for prying, then ridiculous for feeling guilty. ‘This is my HOUSE!’, I said to myself. ‘I should be ALONE right now!’

   – Y a quelqu’un… ? I asked, hoping that I wouldn’t get an answer from a ghost.

   I heard giggling as though a bunch of schoolgirls was having a pyjama party or something. When silence fell, I started getting nervous and scared again.

   ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Frédérick!’ I reasoned with myself. ‘You’re a grown man in a great house. Chill!’

   – Je peux entrer… ? I asked.

    It sounded completely absurd to ask inexistent people permission to enter a room when nobody was supposed to be there in the first place, right? I opened the door and found a gorgeous blonde and an equally luscious redhead laying on the bed in odd, pink and green nightshirts that looked – in shape, I mean – like something the orphans from Peter Pan would have worn.

   The girls were rubbing their tits together as their hands seemed to be searching for each other’s clit through the nightshirt’s fabric. They were stealing kisses, sometimes making them linger a little longer, sometimes opening their mouths a little more than the previous time. The girls were blushing and chuckling like nervous collégiennes and I instantly became aroused again.

   Suddenly, they turned to me as if they’d never realized I was there, and I had surprised them in flagrante delicto.

   – Maître LeLorier… ? Qu’est-ce que vous faites là ? the blonde one asked.

   What was I doing there? What were they doing here? Well, I guess the question was more why were they there than what they were doing because that was pretty obvious and my cock seemed to understand perfectly as well.

   – C’est ma chambre ici, monsieur Victor! said the redhead.

   I felt like shouting at her, ‘What do you mean, 'this is your room'? This is my house.’ And then it hit me again that she had called me by my grandfather’s name.

   They looked at me with a coy, devilish smile and stuck out their tongues at each other, making them spar sensually, moaning with pleasure into each other’s mouth. I started rubbing my hardening cock through my bathrobe as the girls started rubbing their chests against one another again. Their hands applied pressure on the V between their legs, through the seemingly thick fabric of the nightshirts.

   When their mouths separated, the redhead turned to me with a devious smile and said:

   – C’est pas bien de nous observer comme ça.

   ‘It’s wrong to spy on us like that’. I felt both guilty and horny.

   – Vous êtes un vieux pervert, monsieur Victor, the blonde one said, smiling at me.

   Insulting me in my own home by calling me an old pervert? No. She wasn’t accusing me of being an old pervert, she was calling out my grand-father. Except grand-papa had already been dead for a while.

   They turned back to each other and went back to kissing and caressing. After a while, the blonde reached for the redhead’s ankle and started inching her hand up her leg, under the long nightshirt. The redhead repositioned herself on the bed and spread her legs, helping her lover by lifting part of the nightshirt. She put her feet flat on the bed and I caught an amazing view of her red pubic hair, trimmed into the shape of a heart around her slit.

   – Vous aimez, monsieur Victor? asked the blonde.

   – J’aime, I whispered, my voice croaking as though it was about to go.

   – Vous voulez goûter ? asked the redhead.

   – J’aimerais beaucoup, I replied.

   – Alors venez, insisted the blonde. Mais retirez cette robe de chambre.

   She had ordered me to take off my bathrobe before I joined them to get a taste of the red pussy. When I opened the robe, my cock was pointing straight up and they gasped, before turning to each other and bursting out in laughter. I felt a little self-conscious because I wasn’t used to having women laugh when they caught a glimpse of my erect cock. But their laugh was like something out of a different era. It sounded more like they weren’t used to seeing male genitalia than actually laughing at mine. Or maybe I just needed to convince myself of that!

   Anyway, when I positioned my mouth between the redhead’s thighs, I got a strange whiff of musty plaster. As though I’d just walked down into an old basement that had been flooded and was now slowly recovering. But what did that have to do with the beautiful pussy right before me? I didn’t care. I just dove in and flicked my tongue at the redhead’s clit. She moaned, a light, soft, feminine sigh that made me even more excited.

   As I kissed, licked and nibbled at the redhead’s pussy, I felt the blonde’s hand kneading my butt cheeks and I started grinding my hard cock into the mattress. The blonde shifted around in the bed and I lost her for a few seconds as I concentrated my efforts on pleasing the beautiful redhead.

   Suddenly, I felt the blonde spread my legs and lift my feet up. She started licking and nibbling at my toes, tickling me, but sending incredible bolts of electricity to each nerve in my body. It was my turn to moan. The blonde licked and nibbled at my feet and slowly rubbed her way up my legs until I felt her nose lodge between my ass cheeks and her tongue start lapping at my balls. It felt like a little piece of heaven.

   After a while, the blonde got out from between my legs and grabbed my feet to twist me around. When I landed on my back, I noticed the blonde had taken off her nightshirt and was now completely nude. Her beautiful, milky breasts and perfectly round light-pink areolas made my cock twitch and I realized how hard I was. I looked down at my manhood and saw a drop of pre-cum bubble out of my cockhead. When I looked up at her pussy, I saw a bushel of blonde hair that matched the tresses on her head. Her beautiful blue eyes looked at me with passion.

   I looked at my cock and looked back at her eyes and realized she was doing the same thing.

   – Veux-tu me sucer? I asked.

   She admitted to me that she’d never sucked on a cock before. I asked her if she had ever licked a pussy and she chuckled, saying ‘Bien sûr!’ which means ‘Of course!’ I told her that it would be different but that I’d be honored to be her first. That thought made another drop of pre-cum pop out of my cockhead and made the previous drop ooze down into my belly button.

   Just over my head, I noticed that the redhead had started rubbing her clit with her left hand index and fingering her slit with her right middle finger. I found this extremely arousing and couldn’t wait for the blonde to slip my cock into her wet mouth.

   When she placed her hot lips on my cockhead, almost like she was just kissing it, I had to call on every nerve in my body to keep control and not thrust up. I so wanted that beautiful mouth wrapped all around my cock but I also wanted her first cock sucking experience to be a positive one so I let her tame the cock and get used to it on her own terms. She gave the head a little suction before swabbing it a few times with her tongue. Her mouth felt very good but also felt like it was teasing me more than anything else. I couldn’t help but think that I was happy I’d already shot a load with the maid in the shower or I would have been crazy with horniness.

   As the blonde became more familiar with my cock and started getting more and more into giving me head, I decided I could go back to working my oral magic on the redhead so I put my hands on her hips and brought her closer to me, positioning her knees on either side of my head and her slit over my mouth. I dug in with gusto and she moaned and groaned, rocking her hips and grinding her pussy against my lips, tongue and teeth.

   Soon after, I felt the blonde’s mouth leave my cock but she held its base with her thumb and index and, first thing I knew, she was slipping it inside her wet pussy, rocking my cock like her girlfriend was rocking my face. I managed to look up for a second and saw that they were reaching over to each other, French kissing and pinching each other’s nipples, moaning with delight in each other’s mouth.

   – Mmmm… c’est bon ! said the blonde. Tu veux essayer son sexe, Antoinette?

   Antoinette? The redhead’s first name was Antoinette. I thought this was odd because that is a very old name and, although old names are coming back and parents are making it cool to name their babies with ancient names again, I couldn’t help but think that I was happy this one still had her head!

   – Mmmm… oui ! Tu aimes?

   – J’adore ! replied the blonde.

   As the girls switched places, they leaned down over me and French kissed each other just over my mouth so I could get in on the kiss myself. This sensual oral stimulation carried through my whole body as Antoinette started jacking my hard cock – as if she might be worried I might lose my erection, like that was even REMOTELY possible – and her blonde friend caressed my chest, pinching my nipples with the sides of her fingers.

   Then, gradually, they shifted over and Antoinette didn’t even need to touch my cock for it to slip into her wet pussy like a computer-driven missile. It knew exactly where it needed to go and its target was not only willing and able but it knew how to get it.

   – Oh oui ! C’est bon ! she moaned as she started making the most out of being impaled on my rock-hard cock.

   Her pussy felt even tighter than the blonde's, which is saying a lot. Before I started licking and fingering the blonde’s twat, I looked down at my meat appearing and disappearing inside the redhead’s bush of wet orange pubes and I found that so hot that, before I knew it, cum started boiling inside my balls like the mind-altering-drug-ridden water inside a bong.

   – Je vais jouir, les filles ! I warned them.

   As though my notice had been a battle cry, Antoinette and her friend bounced off my face and my cock and started kissing each other with my love-juice-drenched pole dripping between them. In a matter of seconds, hot streams of cum started erupting out of my cock like lava from a volcano, and landing on both girls’ faces. My whole body shook and spasms spread to all my extremities.

   The girls started laughing again as my spunk oozed down their cheeks. Quickly, they started licking it off each other, swallowing it while looking into each other’s eyes as though I wasn’t even there. When all my cum was gone, they turned to me and started kissing me all over saying:

   – Merci, merci, merci, monsieur Victor !

   I thought it was odd that they were thanking me for having sex with them but I just thanked them right back. Then, things got really weird because they asked me if I thought they would be pregnant and started bouncing on the bed like school children pleading with their parents to ‘say yes, say yes!’ I felt like I was in a strange twilight zone.

   – On a avalé votre semence alors peut-être qu’on porte un enfant maintenant, non ? asked Antoinette. Vos enfants !

   ‘We swallowed your seed so maybe we’re carrying a child now, right? Your children!’ l was totally freaked out. These girls were like from a different era. Just like their clothes and the maid from the shower. I had no idea what was going on but the girls hopped off the bed and ran out of the room, giggling, stark naked.

   I let myself fall back on the bed and rested my eyes for a while, thinking I’d need to grab another shower before I hit the sheets myself.

   Before I drifted off to sleep, I thought: ‘Hey, I better find my own room. This has certainly been an eventful housewarming!’

   I wrapped myself back up in the bathrobe I had dropped on the floor and headed out. The hallway was deserted and quiet. I wondered where Antoinette and her blonde friend – whom I still didn’t know by her name – had gone. I wondered where the maid from the bathroom had gone. I wondered why all three of these women were calling me Victor as if I had been my grand-papa. All this was just too weird. Weird like the grandfather clock chiming three times, then going silent before chiming four more times.

   As I walked upstairs to the master suite, I heard thumping on the floor and a female voice reciting a hopscotch ditty from a bygone era. A shiver ran down my spine and I approached the door of the suite. Sticking my ear to it, I listened:

– Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept…
Violette, violette !

   This was even weirder than my experience in the shower or in the bedroom on the floor below.

   I knocked on the door and asked if I could come in. Nobody answered but the female voice started reciting the ditty again and hopping on the floor. I decided to walk in.

   – Bonjour, Victor ! Tu veux jouer avec moi ?

   A dark-haired woman I estimated must have been at least 40 years old was hopping on a hopscotch game that had been drawn on the old birch floor. She was wearing what seemed to be a school girl’s uniform from the 1930s with a wide tie over a dark blouse and a skirt that went down below her knees. ‘How conservative and outdated!’ I thought.

   I didn’t want to play hopscotch nor did I want to be mistaken for my grandfather once again. I decided I would take things into my own hands and asked the lady, in French:

   – Could you please stop calling me Victor ? My name is Frédérick. I am Victor’s grandson. Not Victor himself. He was a doctor, I’m a chef and restaurateur.

   – Bien sûr, she replied without conviction.

   I was totally convinced that she did not believe a word I was saying. She went on to tell me that she’d been playing hopscotch for a long time and wondered why Sister St. George wasn’t ringing the cow bell for us to go back to class. She told me that with all this hopping, she was getting really hot and asked me if I’d mind if she loosened her tie and the first few buttons of her blouse. ‘Just so she could breathe a little,’ she said, before grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the Louis Quinze armoire in the corner.

   – Hide ! she ordered in French.

   We were squatting behind the huge piece of furniture and she started breathing heavily as though she had taken a long run.

   – I’m completely out of breath, she confessed in French. Look how heavily I’m breathing. Look at my chest going up and down, up and down. You wanna feel?

   She grabbed my hand and put it at the base of her throat so that I could feel her breathing.

   – I’m so happy you’re with me, she said. Did you get my note? The note I gave your sister so she'd pass it on to you?

   I pretended I knew what she was talking about. She was still holding my wrist as my hand pressed against the base of her neck. She started bringing my hand down into her blouse and made me cup her right breast. I could feel that she wasn’t wearing a bra despite the fact her tits were pretty big. She told me she’d had a crush on me since forever but had sworn my sister to secrecy.

   I had no idea what she was talking about since I don’t have a sister. She kissed me full on the mouth and then told me she’d wanted to do that since forever. She wanted me to tell her if I felt the same way about her as she felt about me. I told her I did because I had no idea what was going on but was really intrigued.

   She unbuttoned a few more buttons on her blouse and whispered:

   – Veux-tu voir mes seins ? (which means ‘Do you want to see my breasts ?’)

   I just nodded and she opened her blouse completely. She kissed me on the mouth again and then lifted herself up a little so that my mouth would be at the right level for me to lick, suck and nibble at her big, round globes of flesh. I felt my cock rise inside the bathrobe and thought: ‘What if it pops out from behind the robe?’

   I didn’t have to worry for long. The beautiful 40-year-old looking schoolgirl took off her blouse and slipped a hand between the front lapels of the bathrobe, cupping my balls in her hand. She seemed to approve. She opened the bathrobe and her mouth went straight for my cock as though a powerful magnet had forced her lips to swallow my rod.

   She made me play with her tits while she gave me the best blowjob I’d ever had in my life. She just devoured me and did things with her mouth that I had never experienced.

   Suddenly, as I was playing with her tits and she was slowly bringing me to climax with her mouth, I noticed that she seemed to have a lump in the front of her skirt. Just before I was about to explode in her mouth, she took her lips off my cock and stood up, unfastening the clips on the side of her skirt and lifting it up, revealing a semi-erect cock and stopping me dead in my tracks!

   – Holy shit ! I blurted out, horrified. What the fuck?

   She looked at me like she didn’t understand.

   – Qu’est-ce que…

   I wasn’t able to finish my sentence because she had slipped her cock inside my mouth and had started pumping it like it was a wet pussy. I tried to resist and pull away but this had been such a strange day from the moment I’d set foot in this mansion that I decided this was as good a time as any to get my first taste of cock… and with a transgender woman who seemed to be from another time… a time where she would have been a circus freak.

   – Mmmmm… ouiiii ! C’est bon ! Suce-moi, Victor, suce-moi ! Ssssshhh… pas trop fort. Monsieur le directeur pourrait nous entendre.

   She had told me to watch the noise because the principal could hear us. I had no idea what she was talking about but she quickly repositioned herself so that she could suck on my cock as I worked on hers with my mouth. To my surprise, I was liking the experience of tasting a cock while I kneaded her big breasts and heard her female moans of pleasure.

   After a moment, she pulled her mouth off my cock and hers slipped out of my mouth so that she could get up and squat over my erect pole, easing her asshole onto my manhood. She groaned a little as her backside was dry and the only lubrication was her saliva on my cock. Nevertheless, she was determined to bounce on my hard dick as she stroked her cock furiously, moaning and groaning and talking dirty in French. This was definitely a day for firsts as I'd never had my cock inside an anal canal before.

   We managed to go at it for what seemed like the longest time. In my case, maybe it was because I’d shot two loads in the same evening already. When she finally started feeling the cum come up in her cock, her moaning and groaning escalated and a high-pitched sound came out of her mouth as streams and streams of cum erupted from her uncut dick and splattered my chest. This made me crazy hot and caused me to explode inside her anal cavity, sending shockwaves of euphoria to my brain. We both collapsed on the floor with my hands cupping her tits.

   After a few seconds, she whispered in my ear, begging me not to tell Jeanne Préval that we had fooled around because Jeanne had a crush on me and she would be very upset. Again, I had no idea what she was talking about but she suddenly got up and told me she had to go to the ladies’ room before going back to class.

   And before I could even open my mouth, she had left the bedroom.

   This day could certainly not have been more bizarre.

   I closed the bathrobe and got up myself. When I exited the room and started roaming the hallway, I could hear nothing.

   – Il y a quelqu’un? I asked loudly.

   Nobody answered. Except the grandfather clock chimed six times, then stopped. Before chiming nine more times. I had no idea what that meant. It was just odd.

   I went back to the master suite and lay down on the bed, resting my eyes. I opened the front of the bathrobe, feeling the cold cum that had been shot on my chest and belly. Nonchalantly, I ran my fingers through it and felt it was starting to dry. I licked my fingers, getting my first taste of someone else's cum. That's all I remember. Until I rose the next morning.


   My two weeks in Paris are almost over and I have yet to see the maid, Antoinette and her blonde friend or the 40-year-old collégienne shemale. It’s as if this mansion has swallowed them whole.

   One thing is for sure: If I ever do convert the mansion into a high-class Bed & Breakfast, it will certainly be interesting to see if the customers are visited in the night by sex-crazed ghosts from different times and places. But that grandfather clock has got to go.

(c) All rights reserved, 2016. Tristan LeMay and