Willing Ch. 07

"Oh, no, please, I've never..." she protested, getting into the swing of things. "Not with a woman!"

"Eat my wet hole, cunt! I'm gonna make you LOVE being fucked by a woman!" I pressed my slit against her mouth. "I'm gonna make you BEG to have a woman fucking your mouth, and your sweet little pussy, so hot and moist...and your tight little brown hole..."

"Oh god, please, no, I'm a good girl," she pleaded. "Don't make me kiss your vagina, I've never even seen another woman's private parts...it's too much!" I ran my forefinger down my wet slit, covering it in my cream, then brought it to her nose. She tried to turn away, but I had her pinned.

"Oh, the smell," she said. "It's so strange to smell another woman....her pussy...so different..."

I slipped my wet finger between her lips. "Oh, the taste....your vagina is so wet...so hot...oh, it tastes...oh god, it tastes so nice! You're forcing me to taste your pussy...no, it's wrong, you're trying to turn me into a lesbian...make me want to eat women's hot, wet cunts..."

"Eat it, you little slut, eat my hole," I growled.

"Oh, you're forcing me to lick your pussy, your hot cunt, licking your fat pussy lips, your wet, hot hole, your stiff and hard clit, ohh..." I began rocking into her face, and Virginia began attacking my mons with her lips and tongue expertly, licking up my cream and teasing my sensitive flesh with her sweet tongue, building my anticipation to climax.

"Aah, fuck, you're making me so hot, baby. Lick my hole....yeah, that's it....ohh, my clit, ohh squeeze it....yeah.....aaagh, my clit, I'm cumming....FUCK, I'm cumming sweetheart!! Fuckkkkkk!!" I spasmed, my thighs reflexively trying to squeeze shut on her head. I held them open, and Virginia slowed her oral contact on my pussy, knowing that I would be sensitive after cumming on her. I slumped after the release of tension, then crawled off her sweet body, and lay next to her, cuddling, loving the feel of her warm body next to mine. We kissed and just snuggled, then both fell asleep.

We napped for about two hours, warm in each other's arms. We awoke, still in each other's arms, still warm and comfy. "Hi baby," I murmured to her, as I watched her eyes flutter open.

"Mmmm, hi sweetie," she said. "What time is it?"

"Umm, about five, I think," I said, turning to look at the bedside clock. "Yeah."

"Guess we better get going, huh?" she said.

"Yeah, okay," I said. "Let me freshen up, though. I've got your cum all over my face." Virginia giggled.

"Yeah, me too. I like it," she said.

"Maybe so, but still....if you walk into a lesbian coffee house smelling like that, they'll ALL want a piece of you."

"Would that be SO bad?" Virginia mused. "Having two or three women on me?" She grinned at me.

"More like fifteen or twenty," I said. "And some of them might be overweight. You might get crushed."

"I hadn't thought of that," Virginia conceded.

"That's why you have me around," I said. "I can keep the riff raff off you." I sat up, then headed to the vanity sink. Virginia got up as I was bent over, splashing my face. I felt her hands on my bare ass.

"You've got a nice ass," she observed. "Maybe I should kiss it....or something." Her finger slipped between my cheeks. I was SO tempted to let her continue.

"Heh, I'd like that, but later, okay? Or else we'll never get our night out on the town."

"Spoilsport," she pouted. I grinned at her.

"Look, the chances of a chick as hot looking as you getting through the night without getting fucked by some random lezzie, are pretty damned slim. So just be patient." She chuckled.

"I'll hold you to that."

"Okey-dokey," I said, as I grabbed a small towel, wet it with hot water, then towel bathed myself. Then I wet another one and threw it to her. "Your turn, sweetie."

I watched as she also dabbed at herself. I just shook my head. How did I end up with a chick as beautiful as Virginia?

"What are you wearing tonight?" I asked her.

"Um, this place is pretty casual, right?" she asked, looking a little apprehensive.

"Oh, god yeah," I said. "Jeans, shorts, skirt, dress, mink stole, tuxedo, whatever, is fine there."

"I think you'd look GREAT in a tux," she said, rubbing up against me. "Sexy, and butch, and dykey.....and kinda feminine, too." She kissed my cheek.

"Think my tan skirt and white blouse'll be okay?" she asked. "It's pretty much all I have for dress up until I get to my parents, and until I get settled with you. Everything I have otherwise is back in Bullhead City, and there's not really enough there to go back for, at least immediately." I nodded.

"Yeah, you'll look great," I said. "I'm wearing jeans and a golf shirt."

"A change from your usual golf shirt and jeans, huh?"

"I wanted to do something different," I said. Virginia nodded.

"It's daring, but I think you could carry it off. And on the bright side, it's not flannel." Virginia called for a taxi, and five minutes later it appeared. The driver took us across town to Outwrite in record time (especially for being around rush hour), and Virginia looked at the place skeptically. It's in a strip mall.

"All the goodness is inside," I said. "Like me."

"Well then, it's probably absolutely outstanding," Virginia said, and took my hand in hers. We entered, and found ourselves a seat in a booth, after walking past and through the diverse collection of books.

"Hey, this place is nice,"Virginia said, looking around. "And it's for gays and lesbians?"

"It's frequented by gays and lesbians, and it's certainly got a lot more works by gays and lesbians than most bookstores, but it's for anybody and everybody," I said. And there were plenty of obviously straight couples, as well as men together and women together, whatever their orientation. Plus the usual scattering of singles found in every bookstore.

Virginia and I ordered, soup and a sandwich for me, and a salad and sandwich for her, and both of us got iced tea, sweet of course. As we were eating, I noticed a nice looking blonde, about my age, walk in with a woman maybe twenty years older, and thought to myself, 'there's Virginia and I in around twenty years'. Except maybe we'd have a teenaged boy or girl with us, complaining about something. It gave me warm feeling, and I could only hope it came through.

The female couple sat down in the booth behind us. They were engrossed in conversation, and it was almost impossible for both of us not to hear what they were saying.

Blonde: "So, this is how it went down."

Older woman: "Okay, let me hear it."

Blonde: "I was on vacation on the island of St. Martin. I had planned on it being a trip with my boyfriend, a nice, restful fuck fest - we're both usually so occupied with our separate businesses, that making love at home is impossible. On vacation, it's the goal, right?

Anyway, that was before I found out about his two girlfriends on the side. When I confronted him, you know what he said? "Would you be interested in a threesome?"

Can you imagine that? As IF I would want to do it with another woman and him. I told him to take his dick and shove it up his own ass, and shove his two floozies there, too. Then I canceled his ticket, kept my own and the reservation at La Samanna Resort and went on my own. If need be, I could find a cabana boy or something to keep me occupied, and, if not, I could just relax, far away from grasping, grubby white collar Wall Street ass holes.

The beach there, Long Bay, has a reputation as a 'quiet and romantic' beach. Well, that would have been great if I had a boyfriend to be romantic with. The problem with 'quiet and romantic' beaches, is that there's nothing else to do there. That's why they're quiet and romantic.

So I just had to make the best of things, and enjoy the sun, surf and food. I had the sweetest room with a lovely ocean view, and a wide balcony. I had great plans to sit out there, and watch the sunset while I enjoyed some of the fine French wines available on the island. Mornings I planned on starting with breakfast at the restaurant on the veranda. I was a little disappointed when I got to breakfast at about 8 AM, to find about half the tables filled with couples only...so I'd be the wheel without a bicycle. Ehh, but I was determined to take this vacation however it came, and enjoy myself.

There was a wonderful selection of tropical fruits, so I ordered the fruit plate, yogurt, orange juice, and coffee. As I was waiting for my selection, a rather attractive young woman came in, and looked around, She saw me sitting alone, and smiled graciously but noncommitally at me, then chose a table near mine.

The waitress took her order, and it occurred to me that I could start my vacation by meeting someone who wasn't already tied up with another conversation partner. "Excuse me," I said.

She looked up, quizzically. "Do you speak English?" I asked.

She smiled. "Yes, mais oui."

"Are you dining alone, by any chance?"

"Yes, unfortunately," she said, looking around at the couples engrossed in each other.

"Would you care to dine with me?" I asked, feeling especially forward.

"I would be very pleased," she said, and got up and came to my table. She took my hand in hers, and we shook briefly.

"Gabrielle Delacroix," she said. "It is mine the pleasure."

"Susanne Marler," I replied. "Pleased to meet you."

She seated herself opposite me, and smiled. "Now comes the difficult, the ice crusher, no?"

I laughed. "Do you mean, 'the ice breaker'? Yes, sometimes that is the hard part. How about I start?" Gabrielle nodded, her smile lingering at her mouth, but quite alive in her green eyes. Her hair was long, and blonde, fine like cornsilk. If I hadn't heard her accent, I could have thought her a California surfer girl. She looked about twenty-five.

I told her my story - that I was a stockbroker from New York City, that my boyfriend had managed to mess up our vacation, and that I was just looking to have some fun. She could see that I was a bit older, as I'm thirty-five, and my brown hair and brown eyes were equally obvious.

"Yes," she said. "I work for the government of the French Republic, in Paris."

"Oh, what do you do?" I asked.

"Well, I am only a manager in my agence, it is called Direction générale de la concurrence, de la consommation et de la répression des fraudes, it is something like your American Consumer Product Safety Commission, with whom we have much intercourse, as many fraudulent activities begin in one country but end in another."

"My lover too was unable to come now, but will join me later in the week. But we are both free to do as we like, we are French, no?"

"Really?" I said.

"I am pulling your foot, your leg, I mean," she said, laughing. "Americans have opinions of the French, no?"

"No, I mean, yes," I said, smiling at her wit. "Yes, we certainly do."

"Well, often it is deserved," she sighed. She hesitated. "Would you perhaps be interested in us, in you and I, being together today to have some fun? There do not appear to be many others to join us..." she gestured to the couples around us.

"I think I'd like that," I said. "Although, I wasn't planning on doing all that much today. It's my first day here, and I thought I'd spend it on the beach."

"Excellent!" she said. "If you would allow me to join you, it would be very pleasing." Odd construction, but I got her point. We made our plans to return to our rooms and change after breakfast, then meet at the gate to the beach entrance.

Gabrielle was quite charming and intelligent, and her English was far better than my French would ever be! She was attractive, not a raving beauty, but quite lovely, and very feminine. I felt comfortable with her, and speculated that it was probably better there was no man here, at least for us today, as I am very competitive. I suppose that's my nature, it certainly reflects in my work.

I found her mannerisms charming, and felt attracted to her as someone I wanted to spend some time with, someone I wanted to know better. We both finished our excellent breakfast, and as we parted, agreeing to meet later, she put her hand on my arm, then leaned in and kissed me, lingeringly, on my cheek.

I felt a tingle there, where her lips touched me, and smiled at her. Our eyes locked for a few seconds, and she whispered, "I will count the minutes until we meet again, cherie."

I felt dazzled by her. She was so different than the other women I ran into in Manhattan, so business-like, and frankly, trying so hard to be masculine. Gabrielle was quite the reverse, dazzlingly feminine.

I returned to my room, and caught up with a few work-related things on my laptop - yes, even on a pleasure trip I felt the need to at least stay connected with work - then tried to decide on what I would wear. A bathing suit, obviously, but which? I decided to stay somewhat modest, and chose my Burberry Check bikini in blue, to show off my nice, but not overwhelmingly beautiful, body.

Modestly-sized breasts, hips that I think are a shade too wide, at least my thighs are attractive enough. Frowning, I looked at my butt in the mirror. Flatter than I would like....ah well, nothing to be done about that. Besides, was I dressing to compete with this French girl - no doubt she had the latest outfit, and the body to fill it out - I'd probably regret getting in a competition with her. From what I'd seen in her cotton blouse and skirt at breakfast, she could stun if she wanted to.

I put on a white cover up, then walked down to the beach, picking up a blanket and beach towel from the pool boy - sadly, he was twelve years old - a little out of my range of interest!

I was waiting at the gate only a minute or so, when Gabrielle came down, wearing a short beach robe over her suit. She was beautiful already, and her smile was sweet and dazzling.

"You look so beautiful, ma cherie! You could be a wonderful delicacy for someone very lucky!"

"Thank you," I said. "But I think you are stunning." She took my arm in hers.

"Let us begin our adventure, yes?"

"Um, okay," I said. We walked maybe a quarter of a mile along the white sand, our feet in the cool wet sand where the waves decide to return to the sea The hotel provided beach umbrellas randomly along the beach, so we found one that seemed perfect. There was tropical brush lining the edge of the beach about 150 feet from the water, and there was no one anywhere in sight on either side as far as I could see. Gabrielle seemed to read my thoughts.

"The couples, I think they are having an early morning interlude, no?" She meshed the fingers of her hands together, and grinned. "It is a very French thing to do, certainement."

I laughed. "We Americans are too go-go to think of that," I said. "But it certainly seems like a good idea." She laughed.

"Perhaps your stay on a French island will help you there," she said with a smile.

"Perhaps," I said, doubtful. I'd need a man for that, and so far the twelve year old pool boy was leading the sixty year old desk clerk by a nose.

"Well, let us settle here, it is acceptable?"

"Yes, it's quite lovely," I said, as I dropped the blanket, towel and my bag of stuff. She dropped her bag also. She helped me spread out the blanket, then arrange the umbrella so that we could see the water as we lay down, with the umbrella adjacent to provide shade if it became too hot, and also provide a modicum of privacy.

Immediately, Gabrielle removed her robe. I was surprised to see her wearing a rather quite modest two piece bathing suit.

"Oh, your suit is very pretty," I said. "Where did you get it?" I expected that it was from some French couturier.

"It is from 'Venus,' on the Internet," she said. "From Florida, in your country." That was a little deflating! After Gabrielle pulled out a large bottle of fresh-orange scented suntan oil from her bag, she then removed her top.

She saw my expression. "Oh, have I offended you, mademoiselle?" she said. "I am so sorry-"

"No, no," I said. "Just culture shock, that's all. I kind of forgot that Europeans go topless on beaches. Please don't mind my provincialism."

Gabrielle looked at me appraisingly. "When in Rome..." she said, raising her hands, definitely a Gallic gesture.

"You think I should..." I didn't finish.

"Well, it is your choice. But I assure you that many women here will be sans tops....and bottoms, too. And you have a very lovely, a very charming body. You would not be embarrassed."

I looked at Gabrielle. Her breasts were larger than mine, perfectly tear-drop shaped, with large brown areolas, and small nipples. I wouldn't look so good in comparison to her, with what looked like C cups, but what the hell, I was supposed to be having an adventure, too.

"Um, okay," I said. I removed my top, and her eyes brightened. "Your breasts are magnifique!" she exclaimed. "And your pink nipples are so lovely. I am so regretful that my own nipples are so common," gesturing toward her chest.

"I don't know about Frenchmen, but in America, men prefer larger breasts," I lamented.

"Ahh, but in France, it is the shape, and the details about a woman's breasts which excites us. If she has a creamy complexion, if her nipples and areolas are pink, if the shape is just-so...these are things for which we look. And as for what men think....well, it is not important." She had a faint look of disgust on her face with the last sentence. Strange that she'd be down on men with her boyfriend coming to the island in a few days. At least I had a reason to be pissed at men.

Then Gabrielle handed me the lotion. "Please, you would apply it to me, yes?" She turned her back to me, without waiting for a reply.

"Sure," I said. I poured some in my hand, then began applying it to her back, as she gathered her long hair in her hands and brought it over her shoulder to her front.

"Ahh," she sighed. The cool lotion does feel good when first applied. I spread the slick liquid over her smooth back, her back and shoulders firm and strong under my hand. She lifted her arms, expecting me to spread it along her side and on her arms. I shrugged, and continued to massage the oil into her skin. I noticed she had a tiny patch of hair in each armpit.

"That feels very nice," she sighed. "You are very good at that." I smiled.

"I spent a lot of time on beaches as a girl," I said.

"I wager you were a very beautiful little girl," she said.

"Oh, why?" I asked, just keeping the conversation up.

"Because you are a very beautiful woman," she said, turning to look at me over her shoulder, her eyes locking with mine for a few seconds.

"Oh, thank you," I muttered, a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. I sensed that she meant what she'd said, and I wasn't used to 'the competition' giving a compliment, and actually meaning it.

"Seriously," she said, now turning to face me. "You are a very beautiful woman, and anyone who would double time you is a fool."

"Two time," I said, laughing.

"Yes, two time," she said, laughing herself. "My English betrays me often."

"It's very lovely, Gabrielle," I said. Searching for an equivalent compliment, I added, "and your voice is very nice." My eyes were fixed on her breasts. They were damn lovely.