Language: English / Genre:home_sex / Series: Classic erotica

Mousse

Helena Robertson



Helena Robertson

Mousse

CHAPTER ONE

Monique threw her cigarette in the crystal ash tray. She got up and displayed her shapely voluptuous body in the fragrant breeze of that June evening. She listened for a while to the rumor of the nearby sea and of the moving pine trees in the starlit night; then, leaving the terrace, she entered the living room where her aunt and some friends of hers were seriously playing bridge. By the table, Max Darcourt was quietly smoking. He looked at Monique, a splendid girl of nineteen, fair-haired, whose body, dressed in shiny black silk, represented a perfect materialization of desires and lust. At each step she took, her splendid buttocks were undulating, supported by her perfectly shaped legs. She had a very narrow waist that accentuated the size of her rear. Her two breasts were like succulent and juicy pineapples. The face was very sweet, with wide eyes that looked at you as in perpetual surprise.

Monique, an orphan, spent her youth in a convent in Brittany, and later, she herself became a teacher in a boarding school. She was spending her vacations in the south of France with her aunt who was also her legal tutor.

She looked at Max, an old friend of her aunt. He was handsome, forty-nine, a gray-templed character, and one of her aunt's best friends. He had a little smile and winked at Monique. She replied by another smile and he came by her side. She poured him a glass of champagne and he asked her in a low voice:

“Will I see you like last year? Our little club is still in full swing and awaiting your visit.”

Monique looked around to be sure that no one could hear them and breathed:

“I know. The delightful lingerie that you sent me this morning brought back all kinds of memories from my last vacations; I will go to the club tomorrow to receive the deepest 'attentions' from the members…”

Max smiled to her, kissed her hand, and went back to the bridge table.

Monique then went to a sofa where her little nephew, Jacques, was reading comics. She caressed the head of the child. He had a very sweet face with delicate features. He smiled at her and hugged her close.

“You are not sleeping?”

“No, not yet, I just do not want to. What about you?”