Ectasy on Fire

From an upstairs window, Madam Andre, the housekeeper, watched. She was wearing a dressing gown, under which she was nude. Madam Andre was attractive, with a full, ripe body, luscious breasts, a broad backside and firm legs. She was also an especially hairy woman. Her triangle was a great bush of thick, wiry black hair. Through this veritable forest, her plump, meaty cunt lips were not visible, but when she parted her pussy to examine herself, her cunt lips appeared thick and spongy. Unlike Melissa's cunt, which opened like a flower in bloom, Madam Andre's cunt was long and narrow. When it opened wide to admit a finger, a prick, or a sweet tongue, it was a genuine tunnel of hot love, and it required much attention; it took a lot of fingering, sucking, stroking, tonguing, and caressing before her clitoris, about the size of an olive pit when fully erect, would respond.

Her breasts were magnificent and beautifully curved. Her nipples were unusually large and stiff. The color of her aureoles was deep, complementing the blackness of the hair on her head, in her armpits and between her thighs.

Madam Andre had peasant feet, peasant hands and a walk one would associate with a farm girl. She loved to eat. She loved to drink. Cognac was her favorite beverage after champagne and beer. But seldom was she seen drunk. Madam Andre could handle her booze.

As she watched now from the window of her small apartment (which fronted on the cobbled courtyard and had its own private bathroom, sitting room, and a spacious bedroom), she grew hungry for George to come to her.

As the car disappeared, Madam Andre closed the pale lemon- colored curtains. Dimming the light, she went to her dressing table. Using an atomizer, she sprayed her body with a new perfume that smelled of jasmine and lily of the valley. She rubbed it into the hair of her armpits and all over her crotch, even touched a dab of it into her anus.

Smiling at herself in the mirror, she opened one of the drawers in her bureau and took out a twelve-inch-long dildo. Bringing it to her lips, she kissed it. Then she introduced it into her mouth. Holding it away from her, she smiled at her reflection in the mirror.

George was coming for it.

When he arrived, he was not at all shocked to see her standing there naked, with the dildo strapped around her waist. He had seen it many times before. She ordered him to strip, which he readily did. She called him over to her and he complied.

His cock was hard from the sight of her obscenity. When he was standing before her, Madam Andre reached out and took hold of it, squeezing it lightly, then harder, until he groaned. Then she ordered him onto the bed, where she lay atop his prone body, sticking the dildo in between his legs. She rubbed it back and forth teasingly; she scratched his back with her long fingernails and bit his neck.

"Do you want it?" she asked.

"Yes. Yes, I want it," he said, his voice hoarse and urgent.

She teased him further by continuing to rub the instrument between his legs. He lifted his buttocks into the air as if to suggest where she might put it. She slapped them hard and they contracted and sank back into the bed. His flesh stung and turned red. He lifted his buttocks again, and again she slapped them. Again they contracted and expanded. He grabbed the pillow and stuffed it under his stomach, reached behind him and spread his buttocks with his hands, his fingers sinking into his own flesh.

She placed the instrument in the exposed opening of his dark passage. She drove it in and his buttocks clenched, drawing the dildo further in as he dug into the bed beneath him, giving pressure to his hard, aching cock.

"Fuck me!" he yelled. She pumped the dildo in and out with increasing force. All the while, he continued to dig his cock into the bed, finally bringing his hand beneath him to squeeze it since the pressure of the bed was insufficient to give him release.

During the excitement, Madam Andre's clitoris had rubbed against the edge of the instrument and brought her to a pounding orgasm. When she came, she could not think of moving, but instead began rubbing herself with as much agility as her position afforded against the dildo. The instrument was buried deeply inside George, who squeezed his cock hard and rubbed it up and down, desperate to come before she removed the dildo, which she always did as a sort of joke – saying that she, like a man who had spent himself inside a woman, also went limp with exhaustion and had to withdraw.

He envisioned what she looked like behind him, the dildo strapped to her waist and buried within him. He squeezed himself hard, grunted and came to the image in his mind.

Chapter Five