This is not a romantic rendezvous.

We sit al-fresco at a café eating lunch, and Antoine is good company. Sitting back in his chair, we talk, and his mannerisms are those of an adult. Instead of tongue-tied shyness, his personality shines through, and such is the change in his demeanour, I often forget he is only eighteen.

This is new, and being in public is my idea. It is another challenge – a situation to assert myself.

We are among the oblivious and the cognoscenti, and Antoine is oblivious. I have hopes for him; one day, he might understand what hides in plain sight. Nothing is left to chance. My summer dress clings to my slender figure, its bodice presents a full cleavage, at the limits of demure. I want him to look. It took patience to craft my hair this way, deliberately unkempt. With vermilion lips and colour on my cheeks, I am a beacon to those who know. Painted as if I am freshly fucked by my lover opposite.

The café hums with chatter, punctuated by crockery, threaded through the air with a half-forgotten song. I am a conjurer, twisting Antoine’s thoughts to my will. My eyes are a snare where wanton desires pulse.

People watch people, and some glances I catch ask a silent question.

They know what we are, and what we are doing. If you think I am the only woman here with a lover, you would be wrong. Husbands meet wives, their own or someone else’s. Or, nature takes a more innocent course, men are looking for women, and the women here alone?

Who knows what they want?

Toying with the straw in my drink, I suck it, the motif obvious as I leer into Antoine’s eyes. We share a secret - I am not wearing panties. My naked foot slides against his calf. I am in control. He desires me as his teacher, and he is my student. Antoine simmers, wondering when I will whisk him back to my apartment and further his education.

Once a week, we meet and we fuck, and fuck... and fuck some more. Sex is more of a battle between us now, and he challenges my dominance; it drives me wild.

“Soon…” I grin with a come-hither expression. The one he sees when he enters me.

We are close to prying eyes and ears. A woman alone sits adjacent to us. Our eyes meet. Honey-skinned, her flowing blonde hair catches the breeze. She glances at Antoine, and there is a moment of intuition between us.

Yes, he fucks me, and yes, he is a good lover.

She returns to her book with a genial smile.

Returning to Antoine, he frowns, and my eyes gesture to her.

Yes, it is a test.

He turns, and the die is cast.

It is long enough to be noticed; a few seconds is all it takes. Antoine looks at me, flushed, his confidence has limits, but I admire his courage.

I lean in. “You do not need eyes to see. You need vision.”

Antoine joins me in this conspiracy. “I understand. She smiled at me.”

I tut. “We all smile. Did it linger, widen, and what about her eyes?”

“It lingered, and she smiled with them.”

“Oooh, then she is interested, and she is beautiful. If you were here alone, what would you do?”

“Say Hello.”

I am doubtful, but play along. “Then what?”

“Introduce myself.”

I agree. “It does not matter what you say. Just keep it plain and simple.”

“I would ask her about her book.”

“Excellent.”

“And ask if I could join her.”

I purr, “Good boy. Then let her talk. You make it all about her.”

He mulls over my words. “I understand. Thank you.”

I frown, “Thank you?”

“Women do not come with instructions.”

I laugh. “You have a lifetime to learn, but you are making an excellent start.”

Antoine pauses. His expression is serious. “Her eyes pulled me apart. As if… as if, she wanted to rebuild me into someone I do not yet know. And… I wanted her to do that.”

I am floored. “Oof, Antoine…”

He shrinks back, “I know, silly…”

“No,” I must interject, “Not silly. You do understand.”

There is a youthful, sweet, earnestness instead of mature cynicism. To see a glimpse of it sends a warm tremor through me. Antoine will not need that dating app much longer.

I thought words were his weakness; I was wrong. They worm into his mind as my tongue might squirm in his ear. He has the potential to master them and their power. Coupled, feverish, and slippery with sweat, they are the pinnacle of our trysts. Describing our fantasy, his thrusts always accelerate. He has the skill and endurance now that brings me to orgasm. When I do, his excitement boils over. I am very tempted to let him fill me with his seed.

I recline, and my foot ascends between his legs, enjoying his struggle. It finds the rigid lump at his crotch, massaging it. Antoine has free will, and I own it.

Cami is with Etienne at a different café. If I am the demure one, she is not.

For all I know, she has already fucked his brains out in the restroom.

-=-

Under the azure sky of this warm Parisian afternoon, we walk side-by-side, chatting. My hips swish, left to right, liquid as if I have Antoine’s cum inside me, greasing my gait.

It is in the glimmer of my eyes, and how I sweep my hair back. It is in every relaxed movement of my poise. I live in a permanent post-coital mood, and do not care if people know. A few months ago, I was sullen and rejected. Before this arrangement, I shrank as withered flowers. Now, I bloom. I need sex as air to breathe, and if my roving eyes meet theirs, anything is possible.

Antoine does not know this and does not understand my gratitude. I hope he realises what he received in return. One day, he might be wise enough. It might come as an epiphany, perhaps next week, perhaps in ten years.

I hope I am a happy memory for him.

We venture into Marais, a louche, bohemian district, where respectable meets sleazy. We journey deeper into its ancient centre. From the boulevard into a side street, I slide my hand into his. This is a place where old walls have ears and stories to tell.

We will write another.

“Ines, where are we going?”

I tug on Antoine’s hand, “To Camille’s place.”

“You mean...”

Under a wide-brimmed hat, he can only see my lips as I corner him in a doorway.

“I meant every word, Antoine.”

My embrace is a cloak; my lips assault his. It makes his simper, and I pluck his sigh with a provocative kiss, forcing a gravelly moan.

My hand slides to the bulge between his legs, teasing it erect once more. A security camera bears witness, and I am tempted to take to my haunches and suck his stiff cock.

Removing my sunglasses, I pinch the cleft of his chin and hold his head up. “Remember our first time?”

He nods, “Uh-huh.”

“I told you what I wanted?”

“Yes.”

“You will do what Cami and I say.”

His throat hitches, “Okay.”

Open-mouthed, we kiss as teenagers do, full, and my tongue slides against his. I press my sex to his thigh, and he will feel my furnace heat.

“You will not have to wait much longer.”

That should keep his apprehension at bay.

-=-

Beyond the blue-painted door, the city fades into this barely illuminated labyrinth, chilling the heat. We ascend in the tiny elevator, and each click it makes counts down our fantasy. So close, enjoying his scent, the compulsion to be fucked is all I can muster.

The white paint is vanilla with age, and the scent of bergamot draws us to her lair. The sound of repetitive moans grows. I want to tut; Cami is always the headstrong one. She does it as a form of self-defence, strike first, do not be the victim. Divorced too, we share the mutual pain of jilted husbands. I have seen her tears.

The key zips in the lock, and the throes of their passion fill the air. Cami looks up at us in a state of undress, grinding against Etienne. Framed by her open dress, her breasts sway as she rides him.

She leers at Antoine and me, pouting as she sits square on Etienne’s loins. “You are late.”

Now, I tut, “You are impatient.”

She writhes on him, releasing an airy gasp. “Hello, Antoine. Have you come to get fucked, too?”

I seize his hand and pull him over the threshold.

The door yields. The open-plan apartment breathes, its walls glow with a soft ambience - a place where time will fray at the edges. The lounge sprawls before us, shelves cradle the ephemera of her life and untamed heart.

The air is thick with the musk of sex and the ghost of percolated coffee.

Paintings lean against the walls, half-clothed nudes, their eyes following us as we walk. Mirrors catch fragments of our reflections, scattering them like secrets. Art Deco angles collide with the exuberance of kitsch, and scarlet velvet cushions blush as Cami does.

“And now, all the way in,” she purrs.

Etienne groans. He is the mouse, she is the feline.

Antoine is mesmerised, and I sit him on the settee, fixated on Cami’s sex plunging onto Etienne’s shaft. Grinding on him, she fumbles with the buttons of her dress, and it flies as an arc of fabric. She turns to face us, her feet on his knees, riding him in reverse.

I slip Antoine’s belt from its buckle, and he lofts his hips so I can discard his jeans. His polo shirt follows. Last, his briefs cannot disguise his erection, and it does not snag when I free it.

My dress joins Cami’s in the same puddle on the floor.

“Ines…” she pants. “You went to lunch with no underwear? You dirty bitch!”

I giggle, “Yes, but look, I have what I want.”

“That.” Cami purrs, “Is a very nice cock.”

“You like the view?” She asks.

“Yes,” Antoine groans.

 My hand on his heart can feel a jackhammer at work. My mouth on his shaft raises his plaintive, soft moans. Lean, rigid, well versed in fucking me for hours each week; his hooded eyes meet mine.

“Cami…” pleads Etienne.

“Ah ah, no cumming.”

Antoine is not the only one who struggles with his endurance. We are in charge, and I am wicked. I take his entire length in my mouth.

“Fuck, Ines!”

I gasp for air. Stroking it, slick and slippery, it is a rod of iron. “I hope you have plenty of cum for us.”

Antoine mumbles in agreement. Cami idles up alongside us, and Etienne follows like a lost puppy.

I am the slender one; she is the redhead with deep curves, a tight, cinched waist, and teardrop breasts. She prefers a cropped small ‘V’ on her mons, an arrow to her delicious bald sex.

She kneels, and we share the moment, enjoying our conspiracy.

Cami takes Antoine’s cock in her hand. “Now, I shall look after that. Etienne, fuck her for me. Slowly.”

A hand holds my hip, and I brace against Antoine’s leg. My eyes lock onto his to witness the moment. Etienne eases it into my sex, pulls back, and slides fully in. Rigid, I feel it all, and with a skilful roll of his hips, I cannot hide its ecstasy.

“Mmm…” Cami muses, “See?”

We are a chorus of whimpers and moans, watched by my lover as Cami rubs on my clit, and strokes him. Antoine seethes with lust.

“Enjoying that?” She asks Etienne.

“Very hot and wet.”

Cami giggles, “Going out with no panties does that to her. She is an exhibitionist.”

I am in heat, and being watched is my kink. Pouting for Cami’s lips, she obliges me in this hinterland between rapture and orgasm. Cami, always the provocateur, takes Antoine in her mouth.

“Now, you take it, Ines.”

Two young men, each with their talents, are commanded to remain still. I accept his shaft in my mouth. Filled at both ends, I slide back and forth between the two. If they thought it would be simple, they were wrong. This is no exuberant fucking, this is patient. It is our connivance, and we are goading them. The prospect of them as our victims flutters in my stomach, and Cami’s fingers dance on my clit.

I must not squirm, but she stokes the tension within.

“Now stop. Both of you, stand up,” demands Cami.

She grabs Antoine’s shaft, leading him by it. I press back on Etienne, and mimic her – it is so hot and smooth, completely rigid.

“On your knees, both of you,” I point to the floor. “And no masturbating. Save your strength.”

In her bedroom, we kneel on the large bed. This is the pedestal they put us on. We fold into each other’s arms, fingertips have no need to cajole, and our lips meet to spice their caress. Her caress of my folds seize my breathing, she finds my swollen clit, and I reciprocate and rub hers. Our men are before us, and my side glance conveys this ecstasy. I clench the soft flesh of her behind, staring down at your young colts, erections swollen.

“Fuck, Ines, you are soaked.”

“I need to cum.”

Her fingers plunge into me, and I hold her tight as my groans quicken. A nip of her teeth on my shoulder dispatches me on that helter-skelter towards orgasm.

Quick fingers force my capitulation, and I deflate with a groan. I retaliate, I know my way around her sex. It is liquid and swollen, her clit rigid, and my touch has an incendiary effect. She is relentless, my hips flex, and the need for air snatches between whimpers. Watch me, boys, watch how a woman is made to climax by another. I seize and release, seize harder, and my sighs stiffen. Heavy as a humid night, it rears up, rumbling as distant thunder, cramping me as my eyes sear into Etienne and Antoine. I reach out to cling onto her, as the tremors telegraph through my body, but it does not placate my needs.

Cami’s lips receive my gratitude, and catching my breath, we grin.

“Good?”

I sigh, enjoying its remnants. “Always.”

“Etienne. Lick.”

Reclining on the bed, I open my legs and beckon the flushed youth. “Show me what your tongue can do.”

Cami towers over Antoine, “You, stay there.”

She rests her leg on his shoulder and grips his hair. “Eat.”

The rasp of his well-tutored tongue finds that spot, and I murmur my encouragement. I have schooled Antoine well. Supine to her body, Cami gasps, and her narrowed eyes meet mine.

“Fuck,” she whimpers, squeezing her breast, “I adore his long tongue.”

-=-

Panting, blotchy-skinned, they are ours, malleable to our whims.  Cami and I are flowers in the sun, our petals open, basking in the warmth.

My best friend has her sex filled with hard teenage meat, and her whimpers relay its pleasure. Etienne does not know how much I need this, and I take him inside. His eyes flicker, and he gasps. I rise and fall, fighting the need to ravage him. Hard as steel, it nurtures the rising tension. They must be numb and aching for what we require.

The four of us broke the ice at a café. If lunch melted it, and expectation warmed it, now, it is steam. We swap again, both of us licking at their vicious erections, each of us enjoying our juices. Straddling them, we lean down.

“Would you like to taste her on my lips, Antoine?”

Our kiss destroys his self-control, and I assert myself, sitting upright. Cami accelerates, writhing in a fluid motion. Braced against Etienne, she clasps his thigh, caressing his nipple. Turning to face Antoine, those upturned eyes are a plea for mercy. I crouch forward, dropping my hips. I can squeeze him like this, and he reacts with a deep groan.

“Good boy. You will do as I say.”

Cami grins, breaking into a beaming smile as I lift from Antoine and push his legs forward.

“Hold them.”

“Ines…” Cami gasps, slithering against Etienne’s body.

I am in charge. Antoine looks bewildered as I crouch over him, holding his legs back, and we couple.

“Fuck!” exclaims Etienne, watching how I perch on top of him.

The Amazon position is a precarious sensation, yet this full feeling spurs me on. The spectacle animates Cami’s body, and I know Etienne will endure the same fate.

I tower over his curled body and have him all, rocking back and forth. My determined eyes demand his acquiescence, and Etienne’s see-saw breathing sets my tempo.

Antoine’s eyes flicker and close; he is lost on a sea of sighs.

“Good boy. You are mine, yes?”

“Yes.”

Cami’s quick yelps are a squall before the storm, and she shudders suddenly.

“Etienne. I needed that.” She is panting, moving slowly. “You are swelling up.”

“I… I am going to.”

“Let it out.”

“In… inside you?”

“Give it to me.”

It is fuel to the fire that burns us all. Cami writhes on top of him with a patient nonchalance. Antoine’s predicament matches his, and I am the spider to the fly. I will devour him. My fingers slide down his thigh, around the curve of his behind, caressing the taut knot of his ass. Hardwired to his shaft, my determined gaze enjoys how he struggles.

“You will cum inside me, too.”

“Oh God.”

Etienne arches, thrusting his hips as he starts to tense, accompanied by Cami’s feline purrs. She jerks back and then forward, adding to the friction. He lunges to grip the bedsheet tight, his plosive grunts signal his angst of release.

Revelling in Antoine’s fate, I rise and fall with the same calculated pace. “Cum for Antoine.”

Cami lifts from Etienne, letting his seed drip onto his body. Laid alongside Antoine, her lips suck on his, opening his mouth, it is a full kiss with her hand raking over his body.

“Look at her, Antoine.”

Those upturned eyes are my reward. “Cum.”

Just when Antoine thought he had experience, he is helpless. Caught in my velvet trap, I will claim my prize. The first man to yield inside me since my ex-husband, and I will not relent. My caress of his smooth taint makes him writhe.

Cami grins at me and turns back to face Antoine. “Do as she says. Cum inside her.”

My fluid movements are relentless; I need this. His face is flushed, and those narrowed eyes reveal a connection to deep, primal needs.

It swells. I clench it and release, “I want it.”

Fluid movements follow as a demonstration of feminine guile. Antoine surrenders with a deep groan. I can feel his taint spasm; it pulses inside too fast to count.

The surge of heat claims my victory. “Good boy,” I purr, “Fill me up.”

His strong groans weaken to sighs. I know he gave me a lot.

-=-

Showering them, pampering their bodies, Cami and I shared the moment, too. They watched and denied a towel; we enjoyed the effect on them. Slippery with foam, my lips buried in the crook of her neck, writhing my sex against Cami’s thigh. She is determined to keep me on this plateau. Sometimes, I have to beg; it is our game. She knows I cannot because I am in charge as much as she is, so I suffer this sweet torture.

Pornography pales against the memories we create. They think we are experienced; we are not. It is as new to us as it is to them. Cami rides Antoine, and Etienne mounts her like a dog nailing its bitch, and fucks her ass. A double penetration, clumsy, but its potency turns them into demented animals. Cami shrieks in a torrid orgasm, and they cannot hold back, filling her holes.

There is only one place we want their seed – inside us. Lost in the moment, scissored together, we grind against each other. Moving as oceans lurch, lank-haired, we slip in a mire of sweat and cum, perfumed by the musk of sex. We writhe to mutual orgasms, and continue with our mouths full of relentless teenage meat. As a melee, our need to control them melts away.

When my turn came, I took Antoine in my tightest hole. An exchange of power, confirming his graduation from our class. Fucking him in reverse, Etienne fills my sex, and Cami’s sex presses to my mouth. Our limbs clash until we find a rhythm. We strain to maintain it, all of us struggling with fatigue. Then it seizes me, and will not let go. There are many names for what I am, I wear them as a badge of pride. The depravity

A depraved, torrid fuck, makes me into a wretch, crippled as I came on them both, and they came inside me.

Reluctantly, Etienne has to work, leaving Antoine at our mercy. A man as a hostage to his lust is a delicious experience. He rises above Cami, each thrust stiffening as I caress his balls.

We will him to climax.

My mischievous fingers tease the pucker of his ass, and my feral lover goads him. He arches with desperate shoves and a bliss-stricken expression; he yields into her.

Their congress tasted delicious.

We lay exhausted, in a daze, unable to move.

-=-

I grin, holding a coffee cup to my lips. It is a warm spring day, winter is a distant memory, much like the melancholia after my divorce.

There are years of memories like these, and our penchant for younger men continues. Etienne melted away and did not return Cami’s call so she sought fresh meat to enjoy. He remains a ghost to me. I fucked a stranger, a taboo broken then, a deviant pleasure now.

Antoine remained part of our ménage à trois and more intense encounters followed. Until he told me of a new girlfriend, and not from that dating app. It provoked a small tear, not sadness, but perhaps, just maybe, I helped him find that precious confidence. I was delighted for him and said so.

I am alone as life thrums around me, excited to meet Cami – she is late, but on her way. Around me, life continues, and this is my favourite café, amongst a throng of patrons, revelling in its industry, and the many passers-by.

I play the cognoscenti game.

From the corner of my eye, it evokes a recollection. His hair is different, and he stands proud. An attractive woman appears from behind him. They pause, then kiss. I know that wistful look; she is in love.

Seeking a table here, none are available, and our eyes meet.

Antoine.

I smile, and so does he. He gestures to her, and I nod slowly as a silent compliment.

Tugging his arm, she leads him away, and he winks with a sly grin.

Men cut our wings and expect us to fly.

I soar.

It is no different for young men pursuing young women. Antoine knows I broke that curse and made him into a man. He looked at her, and she rebuilt him into someone better.

We have more in common than she will ever know.

To shape Antoine, I freed myself. Yet, Cami and I continue to do this - each conquest binds us tighter to this hunger. Does their youth resolve our pasts and erase the years we mourn? And desire? It is like a river and carves its own path. I wonder - do we swim or drift?

As Cami arrives, the water is warm.

We shall swim.

This is my epiphany.