Either Melissa was growling or moaning or squealing. Or she'd be panting. Or she'd be humming. Steve liked it when she'd be humming and this was usually when he was either licking and sucking, tonguing her sweet asshole before she knew he would shove his prick up into it; or she'd hum when he was sucking on her little toes.
Another sound she made that he adored was what might be called a whimper. Like a child as it cries softly.
Melissa would whimper as she'd be sucking off his cock, her fingers manipulating his loveable testicals, Melissa waiting for that glorious, momentous moment when she'd feel his cock churning and then throbbing, realizing that pretty soon, his-balls were going to release that fluid so precious to her that when Steve would explode his scum into Melissa's sucking mouth, she could never get enough of it.
For minutes afterwards, long minutes, she would keep his prick inside her warm mouth, milking it with her finger tips, squeezing it, wanting more, more of his sweet thick scum.
She would even chew on his balls, or pinch them in the hopes this would generate more fluid that would satisfy her rabid thirst.
"Oh, Steve," she groaned as he got down on his knees in the rear of the car. He very much felt like sucking her cunt now and more so, because the vibrating dildo inside her hot pussy had surely generated a whole lot of pussy honey and the more of this in her beautiful, fragrant cunt, the more Steve loved to rub his face in her juices, bury his tongue up inside to feel her liquid wetness.
This particular time he had the sudden desire to suck her and feel the big vibrator rumbling at the same time.
"Oh Steve… oh my darling…," she began humming, then, as his teeth chewed on her clitoris, and he could feel it vibrating in unison with the dildoe, she started her whimpering.
"Oh oh oh, Steve… yesss, ohoooo, ohooo, yes, yes, my dear one. Good boy… oh Steve, you're so gentle, yesssss, suck me. Oh yew wow, oh Steve, yessssss. So hot. So hot… yessss, suck me. Bite it, Steve. God, bite it. Yes, like that. It's so good."
Giving her a last lick, then sitting up to rub his wet face all over her face, Melissa loving to lick up her own slimy juices, sucking them out of his nostrils where her honey cream would collect, from even his ears and especially from his tongue and teeth, he finally relaxed next to her.
"Go on, Melissa, I didn't mean to interrupt."
She opened her eyes. She laughed. She returned her hand to his cock. It was still hard. Then spontaneously, she bent her head to open her mouth and such the full length of his handsome tool down her throat.
As she did this, she played with his balls and when he felt her index finger sneaking under inside, he spread his left leg apart and the lifted it up so that her finger could easily slide into his hot moist asshole.
Steve loved it when she taught him how to enjoy being fingered up his virgin asshole; and there were sometimes when he couldn't get enough of it from her and in the privacy of his own quarters introduce certain objects up his ass at the same time he'd jerk off is own cock.
"Well, Steve… oh, yes, where was I? Oh yes, now I remember."
She pulled her skirt up higher and began to masturbate, her eyes closed as she continued her little story about the auberge:
"Odile was her name, right?"
"Right, Melissa. Just go on with the story."
"You've got me drunk on sex, darling."
"Now don't put the blame on me," he said in a tone of voice one associates with boyish petulance.
"Odile and I grew quite friendly. One night it was raining. There were no other customers. I was having my soup. I dropped the spoon accidentally. As I tried to lean down to reach to the floor, I knocked my transistor radio off. Odile saw my problem. She came over.
"She was wearing one of those very mini-mini skirts that were fashionable at the time. When standing it came just below her darling buttocks. She always wore pantyhose. This evening, I don't know why, her legs were bare. I'd noticed, of course.
"I'll get it for you, Madame," she cried and down under the tablecloth she went. As she did, her skirt hiked up completely in the back. She was on her hands and knees and I could feel her hair brushing against my bare legs. I wasn't wearing any stockings, or panties, for that matter myself.
"I looked down at the edge of the table. Moving slightly, I saw her bare behind! I loved it! Her ass was completely naked and I could see the wonderful hairy mouth of her cunt, Steve. It was such a young cunt, so pretty, just enough hair, the lips like Nellies', you know, so pink and so sweet to look at.
"Well, I couldn't resist. I just could not resist!"
Steve looked up at her. Her eyes were tightly closed. He could hear the buzzing of the vibrating dildoe. She was masturbating her clitoris with rapid motions of her index and third finger, squeezing and pinching it.
"Well, I ran my hand all over her bare buttocks and she didn't even more or jerk up or do anything that I expected.
"I moved my finger down the crease of her ass until it came to her little asshole and still Odile didn't move, not a single inch.
"Then the next thing I know I feel her hands sliding up my skirt and when she discovered my naked cunt, all hairy and wet, she let out a long sigh and that was when I slipped my finger into her asshole and she loved every moment of it as I fucked her right there.
"I know she would never believe it. Never, but it was actually happening Steve. I swear it!"
Chapter 14
Whenever Mrs. Staunton and Maurice were gone from the chateau, the hack eyed theme of 'while the cat's away, the mice will play' applied in full where Madame Andre and George were concerned.
And since the advent of the Cockney girl, Nellie, another playmate was added, and only too willingly did Nellie participate once she learned how much she could trust the two other household servants.
But at first, as could be expected, the young English girl was leery of both of them, and especially George.
He was a huge, hairy man and huge hairy men always frightened the seventeen year old.
Their first meeting had not promised that all would be peaches and cream but neither did it promise that eventually they would get on better together, than anyone in his right mind would have guessed.
When Mrs. Staunton first brought the young freckle faced girl to the chateau and introduced her to Madame Andre, and Madame Andre reported this to George who, at the time, had been busy elsewhere on the great estate, the housekeeper had her misgivings.
"George," she said to the giant who could be both honestly fearsome and submissive to her dominance and as humble and as naturally humiliated and even mortified as if he'd studied this kind of behavior in some psychological textbook, "I don't know how you're going to take to this kid."
"What's that mean?"
"It means," she said, slowly opening her dress so he could observe her great breasts from across the table, "it means that we're going to have to move in very fast, like seal the mold quickly, if she's going to become a secret part of us the way I know you wish the tweenie maid to be."
"Right," George replied. He was chewing on a huge pork chop bone just after having finished a lunch that might have fed three normal men.
"So how do you suggest we go about this, eh?"
Both spoke in a local peasant accent.
"Well," he replied, observing Madame Andre now playing with her huge breasts that she had bared for him at the table in, the kitchen of the chateau. "Well, if maybe you kind of get her into some kind of embarrassing position… that might do it. Then it… "
Madame Andre interrupted: "… you mean blackmail?"
"Of a sort."
French peasants and even the aristocracy are as addicted to blackmail as American teenagers are addicted to Rock amp; Roll.
"We might work it out together."