The French Liqueur

by Cristiano Caffieri

When Meghan Slater returned from a vacation in Europe she found that the elevator in her building was out of order and she had two heavy suitcases to carry up twelve flights of stairs.

Fortunately, a very handsome young man, who lived on the next floor to her, volunteered his well-tuned muscles and carried one of them for her. By the time she got to the seventh floor she was pooped and had to put her case down. Without any hesitation, he grabbed onto the case and said he could carry that as well, however when they arrived on the twelfth even he was gasping a little.
As she put the key in the door she suggested he came into her apartment for a few minutes,

“I’ve got a bottle of something from France that will make you feel renewed,” she laughed.

She’d bought the liqueur from a monastery she’d visited and besides having a kick like a mule it was supposed to have health properties. According to the manager of the small hotel where she stayed, it was an aphrodisiac.

“In this community we’ve had more children per family than anywhere in France,” he told her, almost bursting with pride.

She hadn’t opened the bottle and so this seemed to be a good opportunity. Jed, her knight in shining armor, sat down on the sofa while she dug out some glasses.

“I’m not sure what it tastes like but it came highly recommended,” she laughed.

Sitting beside him on the sofa she raised her glass and said, “Salut,”

And they both cautiously sipped the ruby-red concoction and nodded their approval as it tasted great even though it did have a bit of a kick. Meghan topped up the glasses and they toasted each other once more and then again.

Now she was quite a good looking girl but after the fourth glass, she looked just like Marilyn Monroe.

“You’re very beautiful,” he said, attempting to put on a French accent.

“And vous are very handsome,” she replied trying to follow his lead.

At this point, she noticed a huge bulge in his pants and she lost all sense of propriety and touched it with her fingers. He smiled and fondled her left tit. She stroked again, he fondled again and they started giggling like two kids.

“Would you like to fuck me Monsieur?” she asked, as he’d now ventured to roll up her halter top and latch on to her soft warm skin.

“I think I would Mademoiselle,” and before you could say Follies Berger, she was lying naked on the sofa with his face between her legs licking up and down her slit as if it was a Mille-feuilles. He pulled back the lips with his fingertips and just flicked his tongue from her ass to her clit.

When she came it was so fucking good she lost control of her body for a minute and shook like she was strapped to one of those machines they mix paint on. He became so excited he just leaped onto her and even though her ass was still bouncing up and down me managed to get a hole in one. As it glided slowly in and out he began to kiss her face all over whispering pretend French as he did so. Then all hell let loose as he began to pound her mound as if there was no tomorrow.

Meghan couldn’t believe how far it seemed to penetrate her. She’d never been with a guy with a dick as long as that before. Clinging on to his back she urged him on by calling out “it feels so good inside Jed – it feels so good.”

It was at that moment that he felt his cum surging up his pipe and into hers.

“That was magnifique ,” he cried withdrawing his dick and wiping the residue over her nipples.
“We must have a drink together more often,” she said, dipping her finger in his cum and tasting it.

“How many bottles have you got?” he asked.

“Just twelve,” she smiled, “just twelve.” THE END

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Copyright 2019 Cristiano Caffieri. You may not sell, license, sub-license, rent, transfer or distribute any part of these stories or the photographs herein in any format, or claim ownership.

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