She was always going back to France [mf] | 2016

There was a time before my divorce when things weren’t quite right in my head. I’d got dragged to couples counseling, from there to psychotherapy, and I’d slowly come to realize that I was a workaholic because things weren’t right at home or in fact anywhere in my life.

In one of our arguments my wife told me “Maybe you should go to Vegas for a long weekend, get it out of your system.” In the past she’d told me “If you ever cheat, I don’t want to know about it” so I put those two sentences together and figured she was telling me to go get fucked - literally.

Instead of Vegas I put an ad on Craigslist. Something along the lines of elegant, wealthy professional seeks college girl to spoil. I don’t think I actually used the word ‘sugar’ - this was before that became a thing. Cringeworthy, I know, right? I was at my wit’s end.

You’d be surprised - maybe you wouldn’t - but I was surprised at the number and breadth of replies I got. I’ve since experimented with Craigslist. I’ve been told that my large vocabulary and complicated sentence structure betray a sexy level of intelligence - but no, that’s not what do, I don’t think. The key concepts chicks dig here are “wealthy” and “married,” in that order.

I got a reply from a 19 year old, half Japanese, half white gal that really piqued my interest. She was using fifty cent words where dimes would do - and she wasn’t far from a dime herself. Plump round tits, long brown legs with just the right amount of baby fat, fashionable and smooth and pretty face, too. She wanted an arrangement that boiled down to sex for fashion - she wanted to be able to buy heels, which I was fine. Had a boyfriend in France; had left him to come back home; was going to be going back to be with him, but he wanted her to have a few more sexual encounters before she returned, get it out of her system; and she had decided that as long as she was going to do it she was going to make a little money at it.

I got dolled up to meet her at a local cafe - I’m not fat or deformed, but not attractive either, walk around most days maybe 4/10, I can juice that up to a 6 with the right haircut and clothes if it isn’t a bad hair day. She was cool and clever and pleasant and reminded me of the mint tea I’d been drinking waiting to arrive. We set up a date for the weekend at a local hotel. Turned out I knew both her parents - first name basis with them - that was a little strange and I didn’t let on. I know her plastic surgeon too; the tits had been her 19th birthday present to herself, she apparently had none of her own.

She showed up right on time, liked the Steely Dan that was playing, eyed the envelope I’d left on the table but didn’t touch it or look inside. She got tired of my small talk, moved right into my arms and turned her face up. Her kisses were soft and sweet - literally sweet - she told me her lipgloss had honey in it - and soon I sat on the bed and turned her, still standing in tall heels, to face away from me. She stood with her legs slightly apart and I moved her hips back, baby steps, spreading my own legs - we both had our clothes on still - and backing her up until her ass touched my cock.

I then ruched up her soft summer skirt above her toned, warm thighs and reached around, plunging my fingers and palm down the front of her very small, very thin black lace panties. Her brazilian wax was smooth and the hair that was left was practically black down, it was so fine and soft, but I was rough, rubbing her mound with my palm in a circular motion until her lips parted revealing the wet inside.

I was surprised - I didn’t know a 19 year old could get hot for an old guy, then - I had assumed she wouldn’t - so I took two fingers and put light pressure on her clit hood, moving it up and down and she sighed, her knees buckled and she sank back against me, her ass cheeks sitting half on my thighs and half on the bed. I touched more firmly and moved my other hand in from behind - I was embracing her pelvis, two fingers on her clit and dipping into her warm wet from time to time and then I inserted two more fingers into her now-sloppy cunt from behind, urgently stretching and spreading her to take more. Her breathing became fast and choppy as I pulsed my fingers into her, not a lot of in-out action but insistent that she take a little more, expand a little bit each time, finally getting 3 fingers in and marveling at the clear slick wet that was by now running down the back of my hand!

She came quietly, breath catching in her throat as her tight vagina - she had really prominent ridges - pulsed and squeezed around my fingers. As she peaked the contraction was so strong that it threw my fingers out and I covered her clit with my palm and gave her steady pressure as she eased down onto the bed, laying back into my arms. As I embraced her and held her she turned her head around, there were wisps of hair on her forehead that had escaped her severe French braid and been matted down by beads of sweat; and the gaze she turned on me was that wide-eyed, slightly fearful, slightly animalistic look that some girls get when they have been overcome by pure lust and are yours to command.

I didn’t know it yet, but my marriage of 8 years ended at that moment. My wife had certainly never looked at me that way. Looking back, I’m not sure anyone ever had. If you’ve ever had a girl look at you that way you know the feeling. It’s like taking a hit of rock cocaine straight up the prostate. I don’t know how to describe it any better than that. It feels good. It’s addictive. You want it all the time.

My dick could have scratched glass so I picked this girl’s tall thin frame up in my arms, stood up, and threw her back down on the bed, her cunt still glistening, her skirt still up around her waist, and her heels still on. I took my pants off as quick as I could, grabbed a condom and wrapped up, and I was on this girl and in her, fucking her roughly with her ankles up around my ears. She was hot and now she was moaning; my cock is bigger than any three of my fingers and her tight, young, part Asian little pussy was spasming around it as I forced my way in all the way to the bottom.

She had already had hers and I was learning something; that when a girl has that look in her eye, you are pretty much dining at Burger King: you can have it your way. My way was rough and fast - when I proposed taking the condom off she moaned “no, no” - in retrospect I probably could have gotten away with it, she was so into it, but I didn’t - and pretty soon I filled that rubber with a load big enough that the tip swelled up like a water balloon. I collapsed on her, both of us breathing heavy, her sweet breath coming into my mouth, and she opened her eyes and blinked at me like she couldn’t believe what had just happened either.

After that, we rested for a minute, had a glass of wine apiece, we each cleaned up, and then she very daintily and professionally came over to the bed, got up on it on all fours, and offered me herself doggy style. Wrapped in rubber 2, I started fucking her that way, but she was more into it than I was, and she didn’t object when I asked her if we could just do missionary again. This time I held the back of her head, caressed the downy nape of her neck, her cheeks; tongue kissed her; fucked with slow long strokes and took my time; it was sweet and gentle and I don’t think she came; I enjoyed it as much as the first time, my head was still reeling.

By the time I cleaned up again she was looking at her watch, exclaiming about the time, took her envelope and tucked it away in her purse without looking at it, made her excuse and took off. I drank a few more glasses of wine, had a long slow shower, and tried to make sense of what just had happened to me.

A few days later I got a photo of the really expensive French heels she’d bought with the money; a few days after that we made another rendezvous but we screwed something up, each of us thought the other had stood them up; and I never saw her again.

Her mother told me she’d gone back to France. Yesterday I saw her sister at the grocery store, buying organic produce; they could be twins: same long, tight legs and high ass; same serene, mint-cool face; same fashion sense, big leather purse with tasselled pull; and same high-pitched, self-conscious tittering laugh. For a moment I thought it was her and wondered if it was going to be awkward; but then I saw that her sister had grown up to look just like her.

I didn’t introduce myself. But it all came back to me; so I thought I would post the story here.