I pull up in my sleek German berline. Tires crunch on the quiet street of this small town, thirty kilometers from my bakery. Heart pounds like a war drum. Friday, 3 PM sharp. He’s waiting outside the furnished apartment I own. My investment hideout. Pulse races. Adrenaline floods my veins.
Daytime me: Liliane, 59, blonde waves perfect, white blouse, strict black skirt, heels clicking behind the counter. Smiling at customers. Serving fresh baguettes in our village bakery. Charming François twice, three times a week. He comes from the nearby hamlet. Tall, handsome, ten kilometers drive for my bread. I notice him. His eyes linger. I linger back. Smiles stretch longer. Conversations drag deliciously.
The Mutation
Last month, I snap. He’s leaving with his two baguettes. Van parked far. I chase. ‘Excusez-moi, monsieur!’ Voice steady, but fire inside. ‘Hard to explain. Want to see you outside the bakery.’ He turns, stunned. I push. ‘One of my rentals. Free now. Friday, 3 PM.’ Slip him the address. Dash back. No regrets.
Now, here. I step out. Red tight pullover hugs my curves. Short black skirt rides high. Leather boots grip the pavement. Power surges. No more mask. This is me. Secret Heroine awakening. I lead him inside. Cozy furnished flat. Sit face to face. Spill it all. Comfortable life. Dead husband ignores me. Workaholic. Lonely. No kids. ‘Why you?’ He asks. ‘You’re kind, hot. I love you.’ Boom. Mask shatters. Thighs part under skirt. Eyes lock. ‘Fuck me, handsome. Make me cum.’ Tutoyer hits. Raw need.
I straddle the line. Rise. Grab his hand. Shove it under my skirt. Lips crash. Tongues battle. Deep, endless kiss. His cock hardens. I feel it. Mine to command.
Fingers dive. Push aside panties. Pussy burns. Soaked. Three fingers plunge. Slow thrust. She clenches. Explodes. Orgasm rips her. I own this.
The Exploit
Yank off my pullover. Bra drops. Nipples hard, long. He kneads. Sucks. I melt, but command. Unzip his jeans. Cock springs. Thick. Veins pulse. Brief suck. Saliva drips. Grab condom from purse. Roll it on. Skirt up. No panties now. Straddle him on the couch. Grip shaft. Sink down. Impale fully. ‘Fuck me deep. Give it all.’ I ride. Control the pace. Hips grind. Faster. Slam bottom. I scream. Pussy tight, blonde bush soaked. He hits deep. Bliss.
Ten minutes. Switch. On all fours. Levrette. He pounds. I push back. Harder. ‘Yes! Destroy me!’ Half hour assault. I quake. He erupts in latex. Pull out.
Lie back. Legs spread. Pussy lips open, glistening. ‘Come.’ Stroke him hard. Cum blasts. Tits, belly coated. ‘Want your seed inside. Own me.’ Fingers in myself. Masturbate fierce. Beg. ‘Fuck me again.’ He does. Brutal. Deeper. We collapse. Exhausted. Conquered.
Back to shadows. Both married. But we burn. Meet often. Suck, fuck, ass now. I give him heaven. He worships. Bakery dawn: smiles wider. Heels click confident. Secret fuels me. Stronger. Unbreakable. Village blind. I rule the night.