Adventure in France Ch. 01

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Part I: Nadine

I had arrived in France the week before for my junior year of college, and I was already in the hospital. I had been hit by a car while riding my bike, and if nothing else, I had learned to be more careful. My French, which I had thought was pretty good before leaving the States, was about as broken as my body. Fortunately there wasn’t too much wrong with me—some scrapes, and cuts, a broken wrist—but they wanted to keep me for a few days because there was some question about possible internal injuries. I felt OK, but it was true, sometimes when I moved I felt uncomfortable inside—like everything was loose. My French was just about adequate to ask for a pain pill or the toilet—not much more than that, and one of the nurses—Nadine—was always amused by my feeble attempts at speaking her tongue.

Her English was even more limited than my French—she managed “Good day,” and “I help you?”—and “Happy Birthday.” I guess she noticed my date- of-birth on the charts, and when she came in that morning, she not only said “Happy Birthday”—or rather “‘appy Birtday!”, but she also gave le a kiss on both cheeks. I was quite flattered until the day wore on and every single nurse that came into my room did the same, including the old one with the moustache and body odor.

Some of the nurses were quite pretty, and some were sexy, and some were both (because it’s not always the same thing), but Nadine was my favorite. She was a big woman—really big—she must have been six feet tall. She was thick and heavy, but everything was the right proportion. She was a solid woman and I wouldn’t have wanted to get into a fight with her. Despite being so massive, she was very gentle and very careful when she changed my bandages.

After about ten days they decided to let me go. In France, as opposed to the U.S., they seem anxious to keep you in the hospital as long as possible. I walked gingerly out of the entrance and into the sunshine and to the ambulance provided to take me back to my apartment. As I walked towards the car, I heard someone call my name—”Daveed, Daveed!”

It was Nadine, coming off duty with some of the other nurses. “Daveed, you mus’ come to my ‘ouse for a … a.. dinner!” She looked at one of the other nurses for confirmation of her English, but I’m sure the smile on my face let her know that she had been understood.

“OK, Nadine, when and where?” Suddenly, she looked panicked—so I started to speak in French—but she remembered the piece of paper in her hand and held it out to me. It had an address and phone number written on one side and on the other a date— next Friday— and a time 20:00, which I translated correctly as 8 p.m.

“You come?”, she said eagerly. I nodded and said “oui,” and she smiled back and then said something I didn’t understand to the other nurses. They all burst out laughing, but I didn’t feel like they were laughing at me, though I would dearly have liked to know what exactly what they were laughing at.

When I got back to my apartment I looked up the guy who lived next door. His English was pretty good and I had one or two questions about my invitation. “Does 8 o’clock mean 8 sharp, or 10 minutes past 8 or 9 o’clock, or what?” I knew enough to know that punctuality meant different things in different countries.

“It is such a shame!” Jean Paul ‘s English was correct, but a little stilted and old-fashioned.

” What’s a shame?” I asked.

“She has invited you for a dinner at 8 o’clock so it is clear that it is not for to make love.”

“No, she’s just a friend and it’s for dinner.”

“Yes, but it can be even better with a friend.”

I wasn’t going to get involved in a discussion of love-making with Jean –Paul, who I assumed was much more experienced than I was in this area.

“Just tell me what time I should be there!

Jean-Paul pursed his lips and gave a Gallic shrug. ” 8:20 is good. You must not appear too eager for food – or love, but you don’t want to make the lady too frustrated.”

I assumed this was sexual advice, but I refused to be sidetracked.

“Should I take a gift?”

“Other than yourself? One or two bottles of wineare never wrong. One red and one white, then she can serve whatever is most appropriate. Perhaps you will have opportunity to drink them both!”

As I said, Jean-Paul’s English was a little formal, but he knew how these things worked, so I listened to what almanbahis adres he said as he explained about French dinners. Apparently I shouldn’t expect to eat before 9 or 9:30 and I’d most likely be getting home at 1 or 1:30. “Or you spend the night there, no? And do not offer to help with the washing up afterwards. We do not do that in France.”

“”No,” I said firmly.

Friday evening arrived, and dressed in my best levis and white shirt with a skinny tie and black suit jacket that made me look like a new wave rocker. I went up to the 5th floor of an apartment building near the hospital. I found the right door and checked my watch. 8:15, but I guessed that would be OK. I rang the bell and about 10 seconds later the door swung open. There in the doorway was a black man, in his 40’s I guessed, dressed in a burgundy tracksuit.

“I’m sorry,” I said in French. I was looking for mademoiselle… ” I didn’t even know her last name.

“No, no, you’re in the right place,” he said in English and with what was clearly an American accent. “Hi, I’m Steve.” He held out his hand for me to shake.

Unreasonably, I wondered if this was Nadine’s husband or boyfriend. Anything was possible, because I didn’t know her at all—just that she was a good nurse and a nice person. I suddenly felt overdressed. “Here,” I said, holding out the bottles of wine.

“No, give them to you hostess—ah, here she is.”

Nadine rushed forward, drying her hands on a hand towel and smiling. “Daveed, you have come!” It was impossible not to smile when I saw Nadine, and suddenly I didn’t feel overdressed any more. She was wearing a red dress that came down only to the middle of her thighs, nude pantyhose or stockings and black high heels. Her dress was cut fashionably low so that even when she didn’t bend over you could see a lot of cleavage. I held out the wine towards her and after she had kissed me on both cheeks, she took it and set it down. “You make me very happy because you come,” she beamed.

Nadine gestured towards a fourth person in the room.” Thees ees Viriginie Dupont.”

Viriginie stood up and shook hands with me. “Enchantée,” she said. She was wearing a bottle green velvet dress, conservatively cut, black stockings and, oddly I thought, what looked like a mans shoes. She could have been anywhere between 25 and 45 years old.

Just then the doorbell rang again and Steve said “That’ll be Anne-Sophie.” He opened the door to admit a big girl—almost as tall as Nadine, but nowhere near as bulky. Statuesque is a good word to describe her.

I felt right hat home because she was wearing a pair of jeans, like me, and a blouse that wasn’t dressy but wasn’t a T-shirt either. Apparently there was no dress code here. It turned out that Virginie spoke no English, Anne-Sophie spoke a little, Steve was from Chicago, and Nadine—well you know. That led to an interesting mix of language while we had our apéritif. The conversation was in French until it was clear that I didn’t understand and then Steve would translate for me, but sometimes it was a minute or two before he switched back to French—when he saw the lost look on the faces of the women.

By the time we got to the table at about 9:15 I was feeling comfortable with these people. The conversation around the table was easy and relaxed and soon everyone was talking in whatever language they could and we were all laughing.


At about 11:30 Steve got up to leave. “I know I’m terribly rude, but I have an early morning tomorrow and I’ve got some reports to look at tonight before I go to bed. Steve was on loan from the University of Illinois to a metal –stress lab. Apparently he studied airplane crashes.

About 12:15 Virginie said thank you and good night and left as well. She kissed me on both cheeks instead of shaking hands, which meant that I had been accepted as a friend by her. Anne-Sophie came out of the bathroom and grabbed her purse and jacket, and I began looking for my jacket as well.

“Daveed, you wait?—I geev you—cadeau?” Nadine looked questioningly at Anne-Sophie.

After a few seconds, Anne-Sophie said, “gift– yes, gift.”

“I geev you geeft.”

“Ok, Nadine, I will wait.” I wondered what it could be. Anne-Sophie had gone and Nadine firmly closed the door. Before I could say or do anything she took my face her hands and she gave me a slow , soft, lingering kiss. It was as if she almanbahis adresi had just bathed my naked body in warm water using her tits for washcloths and drying me with her fluffy mane of blonde hair. Or something like that. In any case, it was like nothing ever done to me before, and I was surprised in more ways than one, because there had been no flirting or any sign of suggestive behavior during the dinner.

It seemed to go on forever and when she finally let me go, I felt weak in the knees and dizzy in the head. “You like?”

“Nadine, I want to give you a gift too”, I managed to say, although my voice sounded strange to me. I took her face gently in my hands and slowly approached her lips with mine. As I did so she wrapped her arms around me and gave me a warm and sensual hug, pressing her breasts against me and sliding one leg in between mine. We kissed about twice as long this time, and again, I was left dizzy and weak. I had never been kissed in such a sensual, sensuous way before.

She raised her foot just slightly off the floor and brought her knee up—gently!—to my crotch and nestled my balls against the silkiness of her leg. By now her tongue and mines were getting to know each other and then she started softly kissing my eyebrows, my cheeks, the tip of my nose, my ear lobes, my neck, and every other inch of my face, stopping only long enough to slip her tongue into my eager mouth..

Meanwhile , my hands were busy with her ass, which was tight and firm. Since her skirt was so short, it seemed a shame to let it get in the way, and my hands slid under it and up the back of her legs. I gently explored the place where her stocking tops stopped before moving up a couple of inches to run my fingers along the elastic bands of her panties. They were satiny and not too tight, so it was easy to slip my hands under them and to cup her ass cheeks and pull her even closer against me.

“You like?” she whispered in a husky and very French voice. They say that the sexiest sound in the world is a French woman speaking English, and it must be true, because I almost came then and there.

“J’adore,” I whispered back in a voice that sounded very much like me when I’m incredibly aroused.

I desperately wanted to pump my cock in her pussy, but I also wanted to please her like she had never been done before. I tried hard to remember what my aunt had taught me about pleasing a woman as my cock kept getting bigger and harder on its way to exploding.

I broke away from all this pleasure for a moment. “Nadine, sit,” I said , indicating the couch, and she must have understood because she obediently sat. I kneeled down in front of her. I had remembered that my aunt had taught me that the more foreplay you can engage in without actually penetrating a woman, the hotter she’ll get, and I wanted Nadine red-hot so she would come easily when I fucked her. I lifted one of her feet, slipped off the high heel, and began to kiss her foot, licking and nibbling her toes.

It worked. Nadine began to breathe heavily and caress her own breasts through the material of her dress. I switched to the other foot while caressing her calves with my hands, sliding my hands further and further up her leg. I don’t know what kind of stockings she was wearing, but they felt so smooth and warm under my hands and increased my excitement.

I moved up her leg and started kissing her knees, especially the back. My aunt had told me that each woman had a different place that she liked to be kissed , but that a lot of women liked to be kissed on the back of their knees. Again, it seemed to work for Nadine. She started panting and was desperately trying to get her hands inside her dress, but since it was one piece, she couldn’t.

As I kissed my way above her knees, I looked into her eyes and said,” stand.” Again, she understood because she stood up and frantically began trying to pull her dress over her head and unzip the back of it at the same time. I was as confused as she was, wanting to help her, but getting in the way and not wanting to take my eyes off her pink panties which now had a big wet spot right where it should be – over her pussy.

Between the two of us we managed to get her dress off and I was momentarily distracted from licking her luscious thighs as he undid her bra and let her big tits fall free. They were 38 DD at least. She cupped them in her hands delicately almanbahis adresi pinched her nipples, moaning as she did so.

I was in a dilemma, I was kissing her thighs around the tops of her stockings, working my way slowly towards her mound and pussy, but I didn’t want to miss the sight of her pinching her own nipples. I also wanted to take them in my mouth and suck them. They were rather small , but they were in the middle of a large tan aureole and I wanted to lick and suck and pinch them and make her moan again..

Deciding to leave Nadine to stimulate her own tits, I pushed her knees slowly apart and put my mouth on the wet spot on her panties. I blew gently, my hot breath on her cunt making her shiver. She let go of her boobs and struggled to get her panties off.

I helped her. slide them down. As she lifted her ass off the couch I pulled her panties down over her silky legs, and off her feet, which I kissed again quickly . Then I went back to what I had been intending to do.

I nuzzled her mound, which was lightly covered with soft hair rubbing my lips back and forth along the hairline. But she wouldn’t let me get away with that for very long. She took my face in her hands and gently forced it down until it was in front of her wet pussy, then she slowly pulled me forward into her cunt. My tongue went out, probing, flicking penetrating in between her pussy lips which were swelled and open. She gasped and pulled my head deeper into her crotch while at the same time thrusting her snatch toward me. The effect was that my tongue was buried deep in her honey-hole and she began to twitch and moan loudly.

She was coming, and I nearly shot my load when I realized that. I had never made a woman come with my tongue before, and it was a sweet sensation as she moaned and jerked, rubbing her wet cunt all over my face.

I put my arms under her thighs, and keeping my tongue buried in her pussy, I placed my hands on her stomach, feeling the shivers as she went through a long orgasm. After she had finished, I kept my face there, occasionally flicking my tongue across her pussy lip and causing her to shiver again.

A minute or so later, I came up for air, and I saw the look on her face of utter contentment, but eagerness too.

“You fock me.” she commanded, and she was a woman big enough to enforce her commands. Not that she needed to. I obliged her immediately.

I stood up and quickly took off my jeans and sorts. My cock was hard and as big as it had ever been. She smiled and reached out and touch it, and I almost came then, but I managed to hold back.

Kneeling down again between her legs, I helped her slide her ass forward on the couch until her love box was on the edge of it, open and wet and pink and hungry. I moved close, placing the tip of my cock in her pussy and then leaned forward. “Now I fuck you,” I said, and she looked even happier. I slid in to the warmth of her cunt.

Her eyes got big and wide and she whispered, “good, good.”

I leaned forward some more and placed my mouth on one of her nipples. I began to lick and suck it while sliding in and out of her slick pussy. Her nylon-covered legs closed behind me, pulling me closer into her snatch. Her arms went around me and hugged me to her warm body, and I fucked her slowly and delicately, trying to touch a different part of her vagina with each thrust.

“Now you … play.”

I realized that she wanted me to come. I decided to try something else my aunt had taught me. I looked at Nadine right in the eye as I thrust faster and deeper into her cunt, and in just a few strokes I was exploding deep in her pussy with her stocking legs still locked around me. Feeling the smooth nylon against my back and looking full into her face as I came in her cunt made the whole thing seem even better. My aunt was right.

Afterwards, warm and sleepy and in each other’s arms, she pulled a cover over us off the back of the couch and we fell asleep in sexual contentment. I woke up about 4 a.m., and I must have moved, for she woke up as well, Sitting up, I whispered “Go back to sleep.”

Giggling sleepily, she told me in French that she didn’t speak English and I would have to speak French to her.

“Merci, Nadine, merci,” was all I could say, and she nodded her tousled head and snuggled up to one of the couch cushions.

Also thank you—you fock me good,” she whispered, and she giggled again, then went back to sleep; leaving me to get dressed quietly and slip out the door.

I felt good. Only in France two weeks, and I had already had the best sex of my life. I was sure that the longer I stayed, the better it would get. And I was right.

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