Frenched in the Tropics

?Frenched? in the Tropics By Sensuous I?m a 33 year-old recently divorced high school teacher. I live in a suburb of Cleveland, have a young child, three years-old, and taking care of her and teaching a full-schedule of high-school Spanish and sometimes French keeps me more than busy enough. I?m 5?6? tall, 120 pounds (thanks to good genes) with dark almost-black hair that I wear about shoulder length. I have a nice reasonably cute nose and very big light blue eyes (I think my best feature). My only bad habit I guess is that I like to smoke two or three cigarettes a week. My ex-husband is a well-known and established Plastic Surgeon and although I could have had all of the nipping and tucking I wanted, I never really felt I needed it, and not having it was one way I think I kept my separation from his control. I still have nice 36 C tits that have only little droop, a flat tummy and my interest in bicycling helps me keep my butt nice and firm. So all was well and I was enjoying my transition from cute to womanly very well, thank you. But unfortunately, my ex turned out to have a habit of screwing his grateful female patients and pretty much any other woman that took his fancy. And believe me; I learned that his fancy was often taken. After we?d agreed to an amicable divorce, he seemed to want to tell me all about them. I hope you?ll indulge me in reading some of the background of this story, so that you?ll have the right perspective to appreciate my tropical adventure with a black Frenchman I met by chance on a vacation in Guadeloupe. I was quite happy with my ex before his extra-marital affairs came out. He apparently had enough left over for me and I guess I learned a lot about sex that he learned from his many other women. I probably should have wondered about it when he began to occasionally ask me to do one thing or another when we were making love. I happily complied because what he asked was fun, made me happy and certainly made him happy. I had three boyfriends I slept with before meeting and marrying him when I was 23. But I really did not know much about giving head, sexual techniques or the physical differences in men because I just did not have much experience. Being Jewish and inclined to marry someone of the same religion, I only dated Jewish guys and so the only uncircumcised penis I ever saw was in my college anatomy books (I had thought of getting a nursing degree but decided it was not for me). The three boyfriends and my ex-husband were I think pretty average in physical build, maybe 5?11? to 6?1?and 160 or 180 pounds. None was particularly well-hung, the biggest being about 7-1/2 inches and the smallest about 6?, and they all pleased me just fine. Though I was not altogether na?ve, I can?t say that any of them were bad lovers, but none were what I came to learn was a really good lover. I just didn?t feel I was missing something by not having lots of lovers and still think I?d have been content to stay married, so long as there were no other women. Once we were married, my ex wanted me to stop teaching because, he said, I didn?t have to work and he could take care of me. But I kept on working because it allowed me to be something I personally valued and not just the doctor?s wife. I did take a semester off when my daughter was born, but since we could afford a nanny while I worked, it was easy to go back to teaching. After we were divorced, the very substantial alimony and child-support his fooling around saddled him with would have allowed me to stay home and eat bon-bons, but that was never me. So I continued teaching. I had been to Paris while I was a nineteen-year old college sophomore, but it was with the second of my boyfriend-lovers, so I had no interest in being with someone else. At that point, the boyfriend and I were both sleeping only with each other and took the commitment we made seriously. We later drifted apart, but while it lasted it was very nice. So I was happily married and content until the day I walked in on him and a 20 year old college cheerleader whose boobs he?d enhanced (he did really good work) about six months earlier. In retrospect it was somewhat funny, but not when it happened. He usually left for work before I even got downstairs for breakfast, probably out of habit he learned when an intern. So on that particular day, I think he just did not realize that it was a school holiday. I went to his office, which usually closed after about 1:00 pm on that day of the week, so that he could visit patients in the hospital. I figured I?d surprise him and get him to take me to a nice lunch. I showed up at about 1:15 and was not surprised to find the outer office dark. But I could hear pretty loud moaning in the first examining room and figured his particularly sluttish receptionist, a 40-year old who was one of the women he?d kept ?young? with surgery, might be in there with one of her many boyfriends. I would not have opened the door had I not heard my husband?s name shouted by someone with a much higher voice than the receptionist. I quickly opened the door and all I could see was that his back was to me, his pants were around his ankles and he was ramming into the woman, who was seated in a sort of reclining chair so that she was half-sitting up. It was like a porn movie and his wet 6? dick, slapping balls and her shaved pussy grasping at him was what was closest to me. She was shouting about what a good lover he was and how hard and big his dick was, and like a man I guess he loved it, even though it was not true. She had her arms around his back and her legs in the air, and I could see her face as he rammed into her like the rabbit that he sometimes could be. So she looked at me with her big brown eyes and that mane of light blonde (bottle) hair, and just said ?Hi,? smiling a smile of store-bought great teeth at me, knowing there was no avoiding the situation. Don?t get me wrong, she did not take my man and I?ve come to think that maybe she did me a favor. I?m no longer even mad at her. He must have set a record of fastest time from hard and near coming to soft and almost unnoticeable. I think I just made a deep gasping noise and starting shouting what a son of a bitch he was, he must have recognized my voice and pulled out of her so fast it made a wet sound. He pulled up his pants looked at me red-faced and had a look that one should have when you know your comfortable life with a good looking wife, child , home and family have gone down the tubes, or into some woman?s pussy. Thinking back, I don?t think he even said he was sorry, not ever. The girl looked embarrassed, smiled at me, sort of whispering ?sorry,? pulled up her jeans and scooted around me and out the door. He said something about how she didn?t mean anything and I just stood there ranting at him. But it was over. We worked out the financial details within three months and I never even had to file suit. My lawyer and accountant and his worked out a deal so that I got the house, kept all of my considerable jewelry, one of the nicer cars, a BMW, $5,000 a month in alimony plus a $500,000 cash settlement, my daughter was set for life, educationally and otherwise and I could go on with my life. About the only other thing I got out of it was I kept the IUD I had begun using (the pill makes me sick). So I was divorced, good looking, had a good job, the respect of my colleagues and was free to do as I pleased, so long as I was discreet. I had been divorced (and celibate) for several months when I was having lunch with a colleague who taught most of the French classes at our school. She asked where I was spending the following Spring vacation and I was talking about teaching more French, but also my feeling that I need to immerse myself in the language more. She suggested that I take my vacation on one of the French islands in the Caribbean. She said she had been to Guadeloupe with a friend three years earlier and loved it, especially the attention of the Frenchmen at the hotel she?d chosen completely at random. It was kind of deluxe, she said, but what got my attention was the fact that its clientele was almost entirely French. She explained that Air France flew non-stop from Paris and it was a favorite spot for well-heeled vacationing French people. Now the colleague I am talking about is about five years older than me, has never been married and is kind of plain, except that she has a really nice body on her 5?2? frame. I?d never figured her as being anything but the ?proper? school teacher, but with a roll of her eyes I got the feeling that she?d had a fling or two on that trip and wasn?t going to say more than just be suggestive. So I looked into the hotel on the internet and it looked great, and since my financial situation made the cost not a factor, booked a nice ocean-view room for six days then and there. And now I get on to the good part of my story. When the time came, I flew down to San Juan and then on to Guadeloupe on a Saturday morning. I was mostly looking forward to a beautiful stay in my ocean-view room, using the beach as much as I could and spending the week listening to and speaking French as much as possible. I started that with the immigration and customs guys at the airport, who smiled and saw to it that I got into the right hotel van. My friend was right; the place was a perfect blend of old colonial architecture and excellent service. I arrived in the mid-afternoon, just in time to put on my bikini, take a book and go down to the pool, which was on a terrace overlooking the beach and had a bar. I got set up on a lounge, ordered something full of rum and fruit juice and began looking through the novel I?d brought with me. I was just taking it all in and yes, the place was very French. Most of the women, from the late teens to a couple who were in their 50?s or maybe 60?s were topless. I wasn?t ready for that, so I just started reading. I?d been there about an hour when I decided to smoke. I?d left my lighter in my room and was fumbling around, when a tall almost ebony black man walked by and, seeing my situation, lit my cigarette for me. His French was undeniably Parisian, but there was something different about it I couldn?t place. He introduced himself--his name was Claude. Then he looked at my book and said that he did not mean to intrude. He had a great smile of white teeth and skin that was very dark with a sort of mahogany cast to it. He was probably 6?2?, I guessed, with a swimmers body, all lean muscle and flat abs, and was wearing shorts, a white athletic shirt and sandals. I liked the chance to keep on talking French and told him why I?d picked that place. He laughed and said he would like to help, if I would ?permit? it. His manners suggested that he was well-educated and he was fluent in English as well as French. I found him instantly charming and enjoyed his company, and we spent the rest of the afternoon talking and laughing. I can?t say that my thoughts were particularly on having sex with him, but I was certainly charmed by his manner. He was a writer and taught English and African languages in Paris at the University level, was married to another teacher, who taught French literature, mostly to foreign students, and who was not with him, but would be arriving later in the week. I liked the fact that he made no attempt to hide his marriage, as I think an American might have, at least if he was interested in something more than just chat. I felt very comfortable with him, and I flirted with him, though I was not certain where it was going, especially with his wife due in a few days. We agreed to have a drink that evening and to dinner in the hotel. Once I?d gone to my room and started getting ready, I began to think that maybe it was time for sex for its own sake. The thought of this very ?different? man was intriguing. I wasn?t sure that he had an interest in me, but decided to dress up for dinner in a tasteful but sexy outfit. I wore a nice rose-colored Victoria?s Secret bra and thong panties that my ex bought me, a sheer low-cut print dress and matching strap heels of almost the same color. I had a little white purse that I put my cigarettes and make-up in. I remembered thinking that I had no condoms with me, but did not even think about needing any lubricant. I?d never had a problem in getting aroused. Of course I?d heard lots of ?girl talk? over the years about how black men were supposed to be larger, but I wasn?t thinking about that. I left my room just wondering where the evening would go, and I wasn?t sure I wanted sex with a married man. Well, dinner was great. He ordered everything, including a spectacular white French wine to go with our fish and champagne to go with the fruit we had for dessert. With several glasses of good wine in me and the fact that we danced close together, I was ready to go on. He suggested that we go out to a Club he knew, where you could hear good local musicians and I agreed. We took a cab and I enjoyed talking French with the driver, who had a local accent. The club had a mix of white and black men and women, though the musicians, who played a mix of soft music to dance to and also a lot of ?island? music, guitars and drums mostly. We?d begun drinking potent rum drinks that Claude ordered and I guess I was ready for whatever he pitched. We were dancing close and it was late in the evening. He had both of his big hands around my waist and mine were around his neck, and I really liked his musky smell. As we danced, he asked if I would come to his room. I asked what his wife would think and he laughed. He explained that she was, after all, French, and then said that they had what Americans might call an ?open? marriage. He and she had an understanding and sometimes even made love to people in the same room. He explained that she was bi-sexual, though he was not, and she had actually made love to the same woman with him a few times. However, they made a point of not insisting on that. Well, I was not in my mind ready for sex with another woman, but I was very interested in sex with this exotic man. I said yes, and he laughed delightedly, and we took a cab back to the hotel. We walked with our arms around each other like lovers, but he made no attempt to grope or kiss me in the cab, which was what I expected. We went to his room, which was on another side of the hotel, facing a different bay. He had a bottle of light white wine in the fridge, which he opened and turned on some soft music. We stood on his balcony, just holding each other, until he put our glasses down and took me slowly into his arms and then softly kissed me, holding my cheek in his hand. After we began the kiss, I opened my mouth and just licked at his lips and tongue, which he obviously liked. I felt my self warming to him, my cunt (my ex loved that word) started to warm and lubricate a little and I could feel something stirring in the front of his pants. The kiss became passionate and he urged me into the room. There was no rush in the man, he just kissed and licked my neck, down to my breasts and then down came the zipper on the back of my dress, which fell to the floor. I stepped out of it and he stepped back, let out a gasp and said (in French of course) that I was a marvelous white dove, all soft and wonderful. That really got me going. I stood there in my heels, bra and thong while he just took me in. He was wearing linen slacks and a matching shirt and now I noticed that he was (to be crude) really ?glad to see me.? I could see that he was big, as I?d heard black guys were, but how big! He had what looked like a huge banana or squash pointed down his right leg. I had a brief thought that maybe this was not a good idea, but then thought, hey, I had a seven and an half pound child vaginally; I ought to be able to handle whatever he had. I did, but it took time. He took me by both hands and walked me to the bed, then got down on his knees and kissed by belly, then slowly pulled down my thong. He let out a sigh and smiled, saying he was glad that I did not shave my cunt, as he knew many women did. I had thought about trimming my dark pubic hair before the trip, but didn?t seriously think anyone would be looking at me naked. He leaned into me and held my labia apart and then just licked upward, parting them with his tongue and searching for my clit. My husband, who had seen lots of women naked, told me that I had a particularly large clit and loved to eat me, so I was no stranger to being eaten. But with Claude it was something very different. This man didn?t just do it and like it, he was masterful. He just sat on the floor with my legs spread around him and went to work. I took my bra off and felt the soft breeze on my breasts, with the nipples hard with my excitement. He went very slowly and after a while, the pleasure was so intense that I had trouble keeping my balance in the heels. I came, just standing there, gasping like mad because I?d not had so intense an orgasm in some time. He laughed, saying, (in French),?yes, come for me my sweet, give me your passion.? Well, I was ready to give him anything he wanted. He stood up and came to me, kissing me with some real passion, pulling me close so that I could feel his erection, so that I though, I have to see this before he turns out the lights, though I guess I was just imagining that he might. So it was my turn to go down on my knees. I slowly reached up and pulled down his zipper, and the sound just turned me on even more for some reason. His pants fell to the floor and he stepped back to pick then up and lay them on the chair. As he did that, I saw that he was wearing boxer briefs and that his cock made a huge tent of them. I sat on the bed and he came to me. I motioned for him to take off his shirt and, as he did, I put my hands in his boxer waist band and pulled them down. I?m embarrassed to say it, but I was stunned, and gasped. His cock was still not fully erect, but it was probably already 9 or 10 inches long and obviously thick. He was uncircumcised, my first, and the foreskin still covered the head entirely. I guess he saw my concern, because he said, ?Don?t worry, I will be gentle.? In French, that was so hot! I told him I knew and reached out to hold his cock in both hands and there was room for third hand as well. I just played with it, stroking slowly and feeling it grow larger and harder in my hand. I pushed the foreskin back, revealing a large pinkish and plum-shaped head. I remember thinking that this was nearly twice the size of my ex?s, which I thought (and still do) was just fine. It was just another thing making this so exotic. I had to see if the taste was different, and so I slowly licked at the head and looked up at Claude, whose eyes were closed and whose breathing was getting deeper and faster. I really liked that I was giving him pleasure, so I took the head in my mouth and maybe a couple of inches, but it was just too big to even think about deep-throating, (which my ex taught me). As I really got into licking it and stroking him, I was wetter than I could remember and was thinking that I wanted him to come. But he reached down and stopped me, saying that he did not want to come just yet. ?Fine with me,? I thought, figuring maybe he was the sort to come very quickly, as one of the boyfriends did. I scooted back on the bed, and onto several piled-high pillows, just wearing my sandal-heels and a smile, my nipples at attention, my pussy ready (I hoped) and took in the sights. He was beautiful, all ebony skin, eyes half closed in passion, and that cock, now fully erect, standing straight out from his body, probably 11? long. And it had a life of its own, pointing at me. I knew it would be in me, whether it hurt or not, whether I liked it or not. The skin of it was still wet from my mouth. As he crawled onto the bed, I tried to lick him some more, thinking I needed it to be wet. But he pushed me away and got between my knees and began eating me again. I could see his tongue flicking at my lips and clit and then he pulled me tight and thrust his tongue into me, as I just lost it. He continued like that for about two minutes as I looked down at him from my almost sitting position. Then he looked up at me with a look of heat in his eyes and began to crawl up between my up-raised legs. I pulled one of the pillows out from behind my back and threw it across the room. I raised my legs up so that my high heels were on the bed and my knees were up to be sure he knew I was ready. He laughed and I looked down and saw that his cock was swaying like it was so heavy, the skin all but covering the head. He crawled up between my legs, taking his cock in one hand and bringing it to my cunt. I could not take my eyes away, watching it enter me, pushing the foreskin back as it did. The head just popped in and I looked up into his eyes as he slowly worked more and more into me. He was about halfway in when I had another orgasm and felt myself opening up to him. He kissed me, licking my neck as he worked it into me with a sort of rolling motion. I pulled him to me. I think it must have taken ten minutes of slow fucking to get me open enough to accept him, but eventually he was in me all the way, with me holding his ass in my hands and feeling simply stuffed. I have to say that it was not entirely comfortable, at least not at that point, but it was what I wanted. Once he was all the way in, he began to thrust in and out picking up the speed until my whole world was the place where we joined, that great cock opening me even more, my cunt wetter than ever, and just orgasm after orgasm one right after the other. I have no idea if there were five or fifty, but eventually, I felt exhausted, and I could feel that he was fucking me hard and, of course, deep, with urgency, crying out in French that he was coming, I said, reverting to English, ?Yes, fuck me, fuck me hard, let me feel your come,? and reached down to his balls, the way my husband had taught me, so that I could feel him pulsing over and over, as his come came to his long cock and down it into me. It was so strong and I could feel the heat and wetness as it happened. He grunted like some animal, over and over, and almost shrill, as it happened. After a few moments, he collapsed on me and I went back to French, telling him that he was my lover, my bull, my passion. He kissed me and then said he was amazed, that I made love like a Frenchwoman. I laughed and told him I guess that all it took was the right Frenchman. Later, I finally had the chance to suck him to an orgasm, which was like trying to hold on to some great bucking animal, and we made love in the shower and went to sleep. I did meet his wife and a male friend she brought along. It was, well, wild! Maybe next time. 4593 1.32/512345