The drive to the airport at Nice is not a long one. But it is a pleasant one, with the blue of the Mediterranean on the left providing a placid contrast to the grassed hills rising above the homesteads on the right, once you pass the busy promenade of the seafront hotels.
Louise hummed softly as she paid off her taxi and entered the modern airport building. Conscious of her body, she used it to maximum advantage to win the admiration of men as well as women in any crowd. Unwittingly she did this, for it had now become second nature to her. The hips wiggled, they jounced, the head was carried high, proudly, almost disdainfully… And her breasts – these she flaunted with just the correct degree of insouciance.
Heads swiveled as she progressed through the traffic hall to the bar at the far end.
Nice's airport is thronged by the great of this world. Celebrities use it daily, as well as business czars, diplomats and the elite of international society. So the people at Nice airport, on any given day, are unlikely to spare more than a passing glance at anybody who may show up there. They've seen it all before.
But a beautiful woman, the world over, can win herself a second glance anywhere. Louise was such. She was a beautiful woman anywhere. Admiration was her due. What is more, Louise superbly knew how to evoke admiration.
She had not long to wait. Refusing a drink from the barman, she had barely laid her bag and gloves upon the bar when a loudspeaker announcement told of the arrival of her husband's plane.
And then, minutes later, there he was, hatted, coat over arm, striding towards her. There was love and warmth in his greeting.
"My!" he grinned. "You're adorably lovely, my darling… Wonderful to see you again!"
She clung to his embrace a long moment.
"And to see you," she gave back, in welcome. "It's been so long, Hector."
"Ah, my love, it's the long absences that make the short reunions so wonderful!"
"You're so right," she whispered happily. "Where are your bags? You have brought them, haven't you? You are staying a long time this time, darling? Aren't you?"
Hector laughed.
"One bag. Quite enough for me. A fortnight, darling wife, then I have to go again. To Athens."
"On business?" she pouted.
"The biggest deal of all. Come, let's find a porter! Really the biggest – if it goes the way I hope it does, there should be a few hundred thousand dollars in it, spread over the next year or two. Maybe even more."
"Business! I hate it. Always here, there and everywhere, jumping 'just to this place', 'just to that place' – and we're never together!"
Gaily the man gathered the girl into his arms. "But this time, Louise, for such a short time. And so much at stake. At most I'll be in Athens a week, maybe a fortnight. Lambrakis is there now, and I know he has to fly to Buenos Aires in three weeks. But come, let me look at you. Let's get the hell out of this airport to a place where we can be alone."
Hector's hotel was invariably the Ruhl.
As he moved about his room, unpacking, they discussed the deal in which he was involved – the placing of a vast succession of shipments of Brazilian coffee into Europe through a Greek importer. His unpacking completed, he divested himself of his jacket, and went into the bathroom to wash up.
"Now," he grinned, returning from the bathroom, "let's get on with the honeymoon! This is always the exciting part of being in the same town with you, knowing you are here, and that I can talk to you, feel you, instead of just writing to you."
He took his wife into his arms, and Louise went limp at the long and ardent kisses he showered her with.
And as their kissing progressed, with Louise insinuating her body against his, she felt his penis growing erect against her thighs. For any woman this feeling, this sensation of mastery of her man, is irresistible. It was so for Louise, to the point of being fatal. Nothing provoked her so as the knowledge of what her nearness could do to a man. She responded, sinuously twisting herself against Hector, exulting in her power over him.
"Christ!" he breathed as, moments later, they drew apart. "What you do to me! Come now!"
Willingly she submitted as he drew her to one of the beds in the vast boudoir. Outside it was bright noon. They had not yet lunched. But, sang Louise's heart, what matter? Her husband was with her. Her six-year-long honeymoon was about to begin all over again.
"Off with it," said Hector, unbuttoning her yellow blouse. "It'll crease."
"Who cares?" she smiled, submitting to his eager fingers.
"I do," he grinned. "Later, there'll be lunch. And I want you as pristine as you are now." And then her blouse was off, and in a trice, her brassiere as well, and Hector held her at arm's length to savor the sheer beauty of her unconfined breasts. Swelling hugely and perfectly away from her chest they stood out, hard-nippled by her mounting desire, the areole puckering in as the nipples contracted.
"Holy God," he exulted, drinking in the statuesque proportions of her body from the waist upwards. "Louise, never, I swear to you, has there been so much loveliness as the loveliness of you!"
She, in her turn, fumbled with the straining buttons of his fly.
"Ah, this thing," she sighed, "this thing I love so much – this thing for which I've craved so long!" And her fingers fastened on the throbbing erection, already probing through the material of his undergarments.
"Then have it, my darling."
Hector undid his shirt and trousers with quick, practiced movements, then stood, suddenly nude, his short but wickedly thickened prick standing out like a rigid truncheon between his thighs.
"Now you, Louise," he grunted, hungrily. "Your skirt. Strip. Naked. Go on – stark naked! The way I love you to be!"
She obeyed as he removed his shoes, and, in the completeness of her nudity, she crouched, kneeling before him, groping for his penis. She was a woman upon whom stark lust had suddenly descended.
Feeling it, lovingly masturbating it, she sighed as she crammed it into her mouth, sucking it and licking it as she stroked lengthwise upon it, drinking in the velvet oiliness of his secretions.
And Hector, thrilling as she worked upon him, pulled gently at her head, holding it between both hands, wanting to raise her up to the level of his own mouth, yet reluctant to end the thrill of her wanton, sucking embrace.
Finally she rose, sucking the last drop of spunk from the red and swollen tip of his cock. And he kissed her, seeking with his tongue what no man can do to himself – to taste the spunk from his own cock, the spunk that lay still warm and slimy upon her tongue. With his penis, he probed round in her pubic hair, and suddenly he bore his wife backwards before him onto the bed.
This time it was Hector who went down upon his knees. Invitingly, sensing his desire, she arched up her thighs, spreading them apart so that the red tract of her cunt, pulsating in its eagerness, was presented to his mouth.
Thirstily the husband went at it, licking with great hot slashes of his tongue at the frothy vagina, feeling on his sensitive tongue the eager twitching of her clitoris, match hard to his touch.
Louise, electrified at the contact, thrust the lips of her cunt at the proffered mouth and tongue, and went limp with mounting desire.
"My darling!" she uttered, randily. "Lick me! Tongue-fuck me!"
And Hector did. Ardently, passionately and with tenderness, he slid his tongue over her softness and warmth till she was almost brought to the point of coming.
At this, she arched round suddenly upon the bed and Hector, with instinctive knowledge that she wanted to change position, stood up, penis aloft and angry.
"Come!" she cried. "Soixante-neuf! You suck me and let me suck you! But careful, darling… gently, please. I'm nearly coming already!"
Hector vaulted up next to her, his cupped hands falling naturally over the full, lush curves of her titties, feeling their rock-hard nipples boring hotly into his palms.
"As you want it, my love. Only you go on top."
Obediently, wildly, Louise swung round and, kneeling with her hairy sex over his face, she crammed his cock greedily into the warmth of her mouth, feeling new surges of love juice welling from its tiny aperture whence it flowed into her throat.
Over Hector's face, she presented the delight of her sexual organs and he drew her cunt gently down to the darting, snake-like caressing of his tongue. Louise could not cry out in her passion, for her mouth was full of throbbing, pulsating prick. But she gave vent to her own enjoyment in vicious sucks of that cock, now being masturbated halfway down her throat in blissful lasciviousness.
From time to time, she would rise right off Hector's penis, clutching it around its base, her fingers around his balls, wondering hotly at the power of this thing which could thrill her so.
And when she did this, Hector thrust her ass away from him, raising her buttocks so that he, too, could feast his eyes upon the mystery of cunt and the winking eye of her asshole, both so close together and so near to his face.
What delighted him was the uncontrollable twitching of the lips of that cunt, the in-and-out puckering of the closely-shut anus, as desire consumed his wife. And then she said: "Oh, Hector darling, don't stop like that! You're maddening me! Suck my cunt… lick it! And go on sucking it. Just when you've got me on the point of coming, you stop! It's murdering me!"
Grinning mischievously, he thought that this was just what he wanted: to drive her mad with desire, and then not to satisfy her completely.
And then, on a sudden whim, he swung around beneath her, whipping his penis from out of her mouth, trailing a long strand of elastic come-juice that stretched and broke, to lie like a cobweb across the redness of one of her nipples.
Before she could cry out in surprise, he had pulled her strong body down upon his, feeling his penis slide up to its very balls, deep into the warmth of her cunt, feeling the tip of his tool probing at the very nut of her grotto.
And Louise could only gasp at the onslaught, but feeling the sliding engine within her vagina, she gripped him with her thighs, arching her back so that her glorious breasts stood out, bobbing and jouncing over her husband's face beneath her. Her hair was now dank and disarranged, and sweat – the hot sweat of desire – was upon her.
"Fuck me!" she screamed deliriously at him, taking delight in the impact of obscenity. "Fuck my cunt! You've licked me. Now fuck me, damn it! Piss! Piss in me – fill me with hot, boiling piss!"
And Hector understood. He had long marveled at this trait in his wife – this reversion to foul language in the moments before her climax came. He found a vicarious pleasure in it. Governing his own lust then, disciplining gently but firmly his own desire, he said: "Ah-h-h-h-h! But I love you when you're like this, Louise! A virago! A madwoman! I'll fuck you, all right. But first, like you say… I'll piss into you! Deep down inside your cunt, I'll explode my bladder – right into your womb, if you want it!"
Deliriously, she yelled: "Piss into me! Fuck me! Fuckpiss into me!"
Louise, abandoned utterly to her ecstasy, literally shouted as Hector, urging himself mightily, relaxed sufficiently to discharge the contents of his bladder into his wife.
Feeling the hot surge of urine squirt into her, she could contain herself no longer. She lay, writhing like a snake, in her lust.
She was coming… mightily… and did not care who knew it. Up and down went her hips, and the piss squelched from her vulva, flowing over his wet prick, cascading down upon his thighs.
And as she fucked greedily and lecherously, vast spurts of piss escaped, cascading over his belly, and her seeking fingertips, intent upon maiming this man who (albeit at her own request) had thus befouled her. She drove her nails deep into the skin of his back.
She was lost. She was gone. Like some beast, crying in her passion, she was wild-eyed, maddened by the lust, maddened by the climax of her coming. Back and forth upon his prick she went, sliding the length of it upon her inside skin, right from her clitoris to her deeply embedded cervix, sobbing her obscenities, tossing her head, sweating copiously as the stream of piss unbearably continued to spray upon her internal organs.
And Hector, still disciplining himself, grit his teeth and held back his juices. He was satisfying her. He was doing more. He was glowing in the power of his self-control, glorying that he could cause Louise to come, without coming himself. His turn would come later. He knew his Louise.