Early morning in the empty showroom of the Puteaux car dealership. Heart pounding already from the commute, eyes feasting on 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, sheer nude veil on endless legs. Stockings or pantyhose? The mystery throbs in my veins.
I approach her at the workshop. Pitch the new coupe upgrade. She bites, surprised but game. We stroll to the showroom corner. My sales spiel falters. Her sway hypnotizes. That glossy 15-denier sheen clings like skin. No seam, no line. My gaze devours. She notices, smirks.
The Fever
Hall deserted. Colleagues half-hour out. I play gentleman, help her slide into the driver’s seat. Slow. Jupe rides up. Thighs part wide. Boom. Sheer pantyhose, no panties. Perfectly shaved slit stares back, begging. Heat floods my face. Voice cracks. Cock strains boxer to bursting. She’s married—ring glints—but her legs stay splayed. Pussy lips outlined, damp.
I stammer specs. She grins, eyes locked. ‘Compliment?’ I blurt. ‘Your pantyhose… perfect on those legs. And more.’ She laughs, sultry. Spots my bulge. ‘Looks tight down there.’ Heart hammers. Pulse races in my throat. Sweat beads. She checks the empty hall. ‘List the features?’
Legs wide, tongue tip out. Bourgeoise slut vibe hits hard. Hands graze my zipper. Caresses the ridge. I recite options, voice shaking. Zipper down, no belt fuss. Lips press boxer bulge. Tongue laps. Fabric wets. She frees my throbbing cock. Dark wet spot blooms on her crotch. Arousal seeps through.
The Blaze ignites. Hand wraps shaft. Slow strokes. Kisses tip. ‘Love your scent.’ Eyes up, mouth opens. Inch by inch, engulfs me. Full depth. Gagging heat. My right hand fists her hair. Firm grip. She moans, mouth stuffed. Left hand dives to her soaked veils. Fingers rub the damp patch. Pussy clenches under nylon.
The Blaze
Press harder. Nylon tears slight. One finger slips in. Then two. She’s drenched. Gushes around knuckles. Her sucks sync to my thrusts. Head bobs helpless. I fuck her face now. ‘Like my hand, slut? Gonna cum in your mouth.’ Moans vibrate cock. Deeper. Fingers piston faster. Her walls grip, spasm.
She breaks first. Body shudders. Orgasme rips through. Legs quake wide. I hold hair tight, ram deep. Balls tighten. Cum erupts. Thick ropes flood her throat. She gulps, moaning on semen. Swallows every drop. Breath ragged.
The Ashes smolder. Grip loosens. Pull fingers free, slick with her juice. Offer to her lips. She sucks clean, eyes locked. Glass door swings. Colleagues incoming. Scramble. Zipper up, skirt down. Still tented. Coiffure fixed in rearview.
‘Mme H., pleasure showing the model. Email proposal?’ ‘Yes,’ she purrs, hands card. Steps out, poised bourgeois stride. My card back, wink shared. Polite nods. She vanishes.
Noon SMS: Legs spread photo. Finger near torn nylon gap. ‘Proposal coming?’ Heart skips. Worth the early rise.