Ladies or Gents
We've been holidaying in France most years since we were married 15 years ago. It's always more or less the same deal. We book a nice little apartment or mobile home near to the south coast and drive down there so that we've got the car to get around. The weather is usually stunning and it's one of my favourite times of the year. We know the roads so well by now, sometimes taking the autoroute and now and again venturing off to take the A roads which are less busy and offer a bit of variety to the driving. There are always plenty of lay-bys where we can stop and picnic and find toilets! This holiday is no different and we are well on our way, probably only another 150 miles or so to go. Travelling on one of the A roads we pull in at a lay-by because I am desperate for a pee!
The pull in is quite, there are just two other cars parked up, one French and one British. We park a little way away from the others and my husband says he will start getting out the picnic while I dash off to the loos. If you've ever been in one of these pull ins you will have an idea what the toilets are like. Often they are built to resemble a sort of African mud hut, you walk in and don't have a clue which side is the ladies and which the gents, and maybe it doesn't matter – even after years of coming here I've really no idea! I usually just check there is no one around and pick which bit seems cleanest! Today the toilets are empty and both sides look OK, so I pick the one on the right and go in. I am desperate and find the nearest cubicle. These are French toilets; the 'hole in the ground' sort which I always have a problem with and find the easiest and simplest way is just to remove my knickers completely! Not surprisingly there is no lock on the door, but I am not worried about this, there's no one around. As I squat there starting to pee I hear footsteps approaching, and suddenly the door is pushed open. A Frenchman, probably in his late thirties is standing in front of me 'Oh pardon madam' he says with a smile on his face. My skirt is up round my waist, my knickers in my hand and I am squatting there, over this porcelain hole, relieving myself. Am I embarrassed? Yes, hugely. Does he immediately retreat and shut the door? No. Can I stop peeing so that at least I can recover my dignity? No. He carries on standing there smiling at me, watching me. 'You are English, yes?'
'Monsieur, do you mind!'
'No madam, I do not mind, do you?'
At last I can regain some control and I stand up hurriedly, trying to put my knickers on. 'Wait madam, you are wet, you do not want to put your panties on while your, how do you say, pussy she is still damp'. He pulls some paper from the roll and approaches me, his hand outstretched. I grab it from him and wipe myself, then start bobbing around on one leg trying to get my knickers back on.
'Don't be in such a hurry, I do not mind. In fact I think you have very nice English pussy, just as I have very nice French dick'. I look up and see that he has got his prick out it is resting on his hand, semi erect, it is still a creditable size!
I find I am hugely aroused, which he has obviously noticed, as I have stopped trying to put my knickers on and my mouth is hanging open, eyes staring at his cock.
'You are alone?'
'No, my husband is outside in the car'
'But Englishmen they say are not good lovers, me I am French, I am a good lover, you want to find out how good?'
I gulp, but am tempted, his cock looks wonderful and it's a long time since Derek and I had anything like a decent fuck. Do I dare?
'Oh really, well I think you had better prove it!' I say defiantly.
He pushes me up against the wall of the cubicle, lifts my skirt and his hand goes between my legs, forcing them apart. My pussy is wet with excitement as he rubs his fingers across it, back and forth. 'I think you are ready for this, no?' He turns me around, pushing the top half of my body forward, my skirt he pushes out the way and I feel his cock pushed roughly into me. He thrusts and pounds into my cunt, making my breath come in short gasps, his hands reach round me to play with my clit and I find myself grinding back into him, my pulse racing as I think about Derek outside, waiting for me. I am conscious I must not make any noise though I want to scream out, 'yes, fuck me, yes!' but I keep quiet, listening to his breathing and my own.
As suddenly as it started it is over, he pulls out of me, zips up his trousers and disappears and I am alone again. I straighten my clothes, put my knickers back on. I am conscious of my wetness as I walk out the toilets and back towards the car and my waiting husband.
Written by Belles Directory
