Early morning light filters into the empty showroom of the Puteaux car dealership. Heart pounding already from the commute, eyes glued to leggy women in traffic. But today, it’s Mme H. Dropping off her midnight-blue Hyundai coupe at the workshop. Tailored skirt mid-thigh, sky-high heels, those sheer shiny legs. 15 denier nylons? No seam, no panty line. My cock twitches instantly.
I approach her at the workshop. Pitch the new coupe upgrade. She smiles, surprised but game. We head to the showroom corner, deserted. Colleagues not here for thirty minutes. My sales spiel falters. Her sway hypnotizes. That glossy veil on endless thighs. Eyes devour her. She notices, smirks.
The Fever
Install her in the driver’s seat. Gallant, I guide. She slides in slow. Skirt rides up inch by inch. Thighs part wide. No panties. Just sheer nylon over smooth, shaved slit. Blood rushes south. Face burns red. Voice shakes. She stays open, skirt hiked, owning the view. Pussy lips outlined, begging. Alliance glints on her finger—married, risky. But my boxer strains, cock throbbing.
Stammer through features. She grins, eyes locked. ‘Compliment?’ I blurt. ‘Your nylons… perfect on those legs. And beyond.’ She laughs, sultry. Eyes my bulge. ‘Tight fit, huh? I do that often.’ Glances around. ‘Alone early? List the specs.’ Still spread wide, tongue tip out. Bourgeoise slut vibe.
Hands graze my zipper. Strokes the bulge. I recite options, trembling. Zipper down, no belt undone. Lips press boxer mound. Tongue laps, soaks fabric. Frees my cock. Her crotch darkens, wet spot blooming. Veins pulse. She grips, slow strokes, kisses tip.
The Blaze
‘Love your scent.’ Eyes up, mouth opens. Slides me in, inch by inch. Full depth. Guttural groan escapes me. Right hand fists her hair. Firm grip. She startles, mouth stuffed, moans vibrate. Left hand dives to her soaked nylon gusset. Fingers rub. Nylons yield. One digit pierces, then two. Sloppy wet heat clamps.
Mouth loosens on gasp. But I thrust, fucking her face. Rhythm mine. ‘Like my hand, slut? Gonna cum in your mouth.’ She bucks, moans deepen. Pussy squeezes fingers. I rip harder, pump faster. Her body shudders, spasms hit. Orgasms crash as I erupt. Thick ropes flood her throat. She gulps, greedy, humming on cum.
Sweat slicks skin. Grip loosens. Pull fingers free, glistening. Press to her lips. She sucks clean, eyes locked. Glass door swings—colleagues. Scramble. Zipper up, skirt down. Hair fixed in mirror. ‘Pleasure presenting, Mme H. Email proposal?’ ‘Yes.’ Hands card. She exits, poised strut. Coquin wink, my card. Polite goodbyes.
Boxer sticky, heart still races. Worth arriving early. Noon SMS: Legs spread photo, torn nylons, fingers near gape. ‘Proposal coming?’ Skin tingles hours later. That raw edge, control lost. Unforgettable burn.