Descent into Depravity – Chapter 5.4

November 16, 2017 Leave a Comment

Latest erotic coupling stories: Descent into Depravity – Chapter 5.4

Hervé came to life and scurried over to pull out a chair for me. As I sat and he pushed the chair in he leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “Alice you look stunning tonight.” I could feel his warm breath caressing my ear, and it sent a bolt of lust straight to my pussy. Now his hands were resting on my shoulders gently stroking my neck with his fingertips.

“Oh Hervé, that feels so nice,” I said. As I felt his hands start to slide over my shoulders and his fingertips wander toward my tits, I spoke softly as for his ears only, although I was sure Joan could hear me or at least read my lips, “Not now Hervé. That’s for later. I want to try this salad now. Joan says your food is seductive. I want to find out.” Joan smiled as she watched me shut Hervé down.

He walked to his seat and raised a glass in a toast, “To our lovely guest, Alice.”

We drank and I responded with my own toast, “To Hervé and Joan, my gracious hosts, and to the rest of our evening—a matching of hard parts and soft parts.” The last part of the toast was a bit awkward, but the salacious meaning was obvious. Joan and Hervé smiled and drank.

Joan responded with an even more tasteless toast. “To our evening. May we all come together.” Hervé chuckled at the double entendre, and after I drank and set my glass down, I loosened my blouse further at the waist and pushed it to the outside of my tits so I was virtually topless, at least where it mattered. It felt sinfully delicious.

We ate in silence for a moment. The salad was delicious. “Hervé, so good. How did you make this?”

That was a strategic error. It launched him into a long speech about the salad, this one in particular and salads in general and the importance of les vinaigrettes and how all great chefs have their own vinaigrette and the details of his. Joan looked at me and rolled her eyes.

“Hervé,” I said, finally, interrupting him. “Tell me Hervé, do you talk dirty when you fuck?”

No one said anything for a long moment. I was leaning forward resting on one elbow, my tits hanging below me there for the world, and especially Hervé, to see, and a wine glass in my other hand.

Eventually it became clear to even Hervé that we weren’t interested in his vinaigrette, and that we were waiting for an answer from him to my question.

Hervé looked at me for a moment longer and then recovered. “Oh Mais oui! How could one fuck, I mean really fuck, without talking dirty? Of course I talk dirty. What language would you like me to talk dirty to you in?” Then he launched into a sentence or two in French, followed by Basque, followed by Spanish, followed by, “Oh my sweet little muffin your tits look so fucking hot to me. I am getting a hard on just looking at them. I want to play with them while you ride my big hard cock.”

I smiled, and Joan said, “Will that do?”

“Nicely,” I responded. “At least for openers. Now let’s finish our salad, and Hervé would you please pour me some more wine?” He rose and stepped behind me. As he filled my glass, he reached down with his free hand and fondled one of my tits. It felt delicious. Not to be outdone, as he set the bottle down I turned towards him and slowly stroked the front of his pants. It felt like a very large hard-on beneath those trousers. I was getting very aroused, and beginning to hope this meal wouldn’t have too many courses.

We finished the salad, which really was a stunning dish, and Hervé departed for the kitchen again. As soon as he left, I took off my blouse so I was completely naked from the waist up. Joan released more buttons on her dress and peeled off the top half. Sitting in a chair pulled up to the table she looked completely naked. She sat opposite me massaging her big tits and pulling on her nipples. Her stare never wavered, nor did mine.

I had pulled my skirt up around my waist and had both hands under the table, lightly stroking my sex.

“Are you playing with yourself?” Joan asked.

“What do you think?” I asked.

“I think you are,” she said and continued to masturbate her tits as we talked.

“I want to suck on those nipples.” I said. My voice was almost a low growl.

“And I want to eat that pussy you are playing with,” she responded.

“But not now. Tonight is about Hervé.”

“Yes,” She agreed breathlessly. “But I want you. Oh god, how I want you.”

That was when the door swung open and Hervé strode into the room with new wine glasses and a new bottle of wine, this one a Corton Grand Cru red, one of Burgundy’s finest Pinot Noirs. He said something obscene in French when he saw that we were both nude from the waist up. I didn’t now what the words meant, but I was sure it was obscene just from the way he said it.

Then he pretended to ignore our nudity as he set the glasses down and poured the wine. “This is a fine French Burgundy. Nothing in the world can match it.”

As he leaned over me to pour, I could feel his erect cock pressing against my back. He was pretending to ignore us, but a hard dick never lies.

He whisked away our first course wine glasses and the unfinished bottle of Sancere. “No more of this. I will bring the main course now and it is magnifique. It deserves a fine wine like this Corton. This,” he said holding up the near empty bottle, “was adequate for the first course, but would not do justice to the main course.”

Moments later he was back with new plates, holding a main course of lamb loin medallions in a cream sauce nestled next to potatoes dauphinoise, and some of the freshest, tastiest green beans I have ever come across. The green beans were finished simply—a butter and shallot sauce that complimented the beans precisely.

We were silent as we tucked into the meal. Eventually he spoke up, unable to stand our silence. “The lamb. It is good, no?”

I looked up at him and said, “Hervé, the lamb is outstanding, as are the potatoes and the haricots verts. But it is the sauce, the sauce that makes the dish. How did you do that?” Before he could launch into a long description of the sauce, however, I continued, “Hervé come over here. You deserve a reward. Oh, and bring your wine glass too.

He walked towards me carrying a full glass. I turned towards him and pulled him forward by his belt so he was standing between my legs. He could see now that I had pulled my skirt up around my waist.

I began by releasing his belt buckle, followed by undoing the snap on his jeans and the zipper below. He started to lean forward to set his glass down so he could participate in what he was now anticipating. “No, Hervé. Your role is to stand there and sip your wine. Look at Joan while you are finishing your wine.” I pulled his pants down until they were hung up on his widely spaced thighs. Not altogether to my surprise I found he didn’t have on any underwear. His fully erect dick sprung out as soon as I dispatched his jeans.

I licked my lips as I stared at his dick. It stood straight out from his groin. It was long and big enough around to be intimidating. I wondered if I could fit that thing in my cunt. “That question is for later,” I told myself. I reached out and grabbed the beautiful cock before me with both hands and pulled it to my face. I began licking the underside of it, with long strokes beginning at his balls and reaching the head. Then after each stroke I teased the eye with the tip of my tongue.

Hervé reached down with his free hand and put it behind my head. I pulled my head back and said, “No, Not yet!” I wanted to control the process. I continued licking for a few more strokes, and then I sat up straighter and put my mouth over the head of his cock. He pushed forward with his hips and suddenly I had a mouth full of warm hard cock. I had never sucked a cock before, and it was fantastic to feel this hard object filling my mouth and moving around on its own.

I let his prick explore my mouth for a few moments and then I pulled my head back, sucking on the beast as I withdrew. That was so, so, nasty, so against everything I had ever thought proper—to let a man put his erect cock in my mouth and then to suck on it. Oh so bad . . . and I loved it.!

And it felt so good. I didn’t want to stop. I dropped my head again, taking him in as far as I good while I jacked the remainder of his now saliva-covered shaft with my hands. Then I pulled back, sucking again, and again, and again. Soon there was a regular pattern of my inhaling and sucking back on this big hard prick of Hervé’s. Eventually I realized he had somehow set down his wine glass and now had both of his hands entangled in my hair, pulling my face to and from his groin as he fucked my face. God this was erotic.

I could feel his prick swelling and quickly pulled back. I didn’t particularly object to him cumming in my mouth or on my face, but there was a lot of evening to come. I didn’t want him to cum yet.

I picked up a bite of sauce-covered lamb medallion and pushed it into my mouth, deliberately letting the sauce run down my chin and drip onto my tits. I took a long time chewing, letting a little more sauce slip from the corner of my mouth and run down my chin as I looked up at Hervé. I was still jacking his cock with one hand. Then I picked up my wine glass, still gently stroking his prick, took a swallow and said, “You taste good Hervé, but what’s for dessert? Then I pulled up his jeans, carefully tucked his prick back in, and fastened him up.

He swore again in his French-Basque patois and turned away from me. For the next five minutes he sat at the end of the table glowering at me as he finished his main course and drank two quick glasses of the Burgundy. It was a shame to inhale a wine that good so fast. A wine like that is to be savored in the mouth so all its flavors and nuances are appreciated. He might as well have been drinking Bud Light, the way he was going at it.

Then, leaving our plates he headed back to the kitchen mumbling about dessert.

I looked at Joan. She was grinning. “Oh ,what he said. You are driving him crazy.”

“What did he say?”

“Well, it doesn’t translate exactly into English, but take it as ‘Oh you fucking slut. I’m going to fuck you until you beg for mercy.’ Or something like that.”

“Good,” I said. “That’s exactly what I want tonight. But first he has to work for it.”

“So you’ve made up your mind?”

“Yes, but it’s not going to just be Alice lying down and spreading her legs and Hervé climbing on board and pumping away until he squirts. I had enough of that with Larry.”

We waited for what seemed like a long time for Hervé to return with dessert. Eventually I began to lose my patience. “What’s he doing in there?” I asked Joan.

“I don’t know. Dessert wasn’t supposed to be this complicated.”

“Maybe I went too far, and he’s in there beating off out of frustration.”

Joan laughed. “That would be very un-Hervé like.”

“I’ll tell you what,” I said, as I stood and stripped my skirt off so I was naked but for my new sexy heels and a string of pearls.

“Why don’t you go in there and tell him I’ve taken over dinner and his dessert is ready. I hopped up on the table and sat naked with my legs spread lasciviously. One foot was propped on a chair back and I was slowly stroking my gleaming wet pussy and occasionally sliding one finger into my cunt.

Joan peeled off her dress and walked naked toward the kitchen, just as Hervé emerged through the swinging door, with three dessert plates balanced on one arm. When he saw me, his eyes widened and he said something in his French-Basque patois that I couldn’t translate, but I took it to mean, “Alice, you look so fucking hot.”

I pulled the finger molesting my cunt out and held it before my mouth while Hervé stared. Then I sucked it into my mouth and slowly removed it, sucking on it as I had Hervé’s cock a little while earlier. “Your dessert is ready Hervé. Do you want it?”

He dropped the three plates he was carrying, they landed with a crash splashing chocolate mouse and shards of crockery across the hardwood floor. As he strode towards me he was releasing his belt and freeing his cock.

Hervé stood before me, his trousers in a puddle around his feet and his cock sticking straight out at me. He had both hands on my tits and was roughly mauling them. I made no effort to stop him. Instead I reached out with both hands and grabbed his cock, pulling it towards me.

“Hervé, you’re such a dirty boy,” I said. I was rubbing his cock against my pussy lips and using my fingers to smear my pussy juice over the head and shaft of this beautiful prick I was playing with.

“Do you want to put this big hard cock in my pussy. Is that what you want Hervé?”

I had his cock positioned so its head was poised just at the gaping mouth to my cunt, touching the opening so he could feel it, but not yet quite inside me.

“Well, Hervé, is that what you want. Do you want to fuck me?”

I felt him thrust with his hips but I pushed his cock upwards denying him the entry he so plainly wanted. I was controlling this and loving every minute of it.

“No Hervé,” I said. “You have to tell me what you want. What is it you want? Do you want to fuck me?” I was stroking his dick now, softly and slowly. I wanted to torture him, but not cause him to erupt.

“Oui.”

“English Hervé. Tell me what you want in English.” I had his prick poised at the mouth of my cunt again. Honestly, I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could take.

He growled something in French and then translated, “You fucking whore, I want to fuck you. You understand that?”

“Can you say ‘please,’ Hervé? Can you say ‘Please, I want to fuck you, Alice’? ”

“Arrgh. You fucking putain.” He was sweating now, his brow dripping on my tits.

“FUCK!” he growled . . . he took a deep breath and said softly, “Please, Alice I want to fuck you . . . putain”.

I ignored the last word in French and pushed myself forward letting the head of his cock slide past my lips into my cunt.

He immediately responded by flexing his hips and ramming it in up to the hilt. I felt it bottom out at the end of my cunt.

“Ayhiiiiiii,” I screamed. Not out of pain, but out of relief. The delay had been torturing me as much as it had Hervé.

Now he was pounding my cunt and muttering a string of obscenities. I lay back and let him have his way. Oh god, I thought. It’s been so long. So long! And it feels so good. So good to have my cunt filled by a warm, live, throbbing cock.

This wasn’t going to last long. I was crying and whining, and Hervé was grunting as he pounded me. I could feel the orgasm I had been wanting for hours rapidly building in me. “Oh Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Yes. So fucking good. Yes, Hervé, fuck me, fuck me hard. I’ve been a bitch and I deserve it. Fuck me, Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” I stopped to pant. “Fuck me harder, Hervé!”

He had both hands under my butt now holding me aloft as he pounded his cock into me. And I was just teetering on the edge of what felt like a huge orgasm. Then he froze, his cock in me as far as it would go. I felt it swell and then I felt a hot stream of cum blast out of his prick and into my cunt. Then another, and another, and another. With each blast Hervé grunted and flexed his hips trying to drive himself further into me. There may have been more from Hervé. I don’t know, because when I felt the third or fourth stream I lost all control. I stiffened and pushed my hips up into Hervé in my own effort to fill my cunt even deeper as my climax ripped through my body. I screamed and threw my head back and forth my eyes closed and then I guess I briefly passed out. The next thing I knew, Hervé was lying on me, and we were both panting in an effort to recover. I had never been fucked like that.

Eventually Hervé lifted his body off me. When he stood, his still impressively large cocked left my cunt with a pop, followed by a stream of our juices that puddled on the dining room table. He staggered back and sat in a chair, staring at me through bleary eyes. “Alice . . . Alice,” he said. He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t express it in English. He mumbled in his patois.

That is when Joan spoke up, “My fucking god! You two are animals. I’ve never seen any thing like that.”

Hervé and I smiled and waved off Joan’s comment. I staggered to my feet and walked over to Hervé, where I curled up on his lap, my head against his chest. “Hervé, you were fantastique,” I whispered.

“And you, Alice, and you too,” he said softly as he wrapped his arms around me.

There was such an emotional release from my climax, I had never felt anything like it before. There were tears running down my cheeks. I looked up at Hervé. When he saw my tears he said, “It’s okay, Alice, we have more chocolate mousse.” Now the source of my tears was laughter. The man was obsessed with his cooking.

Fortunately there was more chocolate mousse in the kitchen. The dining room was destroyed. Somehow Hervé and I in our passion had swept all the dishes and wine glasses off the table. There was food, spilled wine, and broken glass and crockery everywhere. The three of us adjourned to the kitchen, tiptoeing around the crockery and glass shards. Once safely out of the dining room we stood naked at a kitchen counter sharing chocolate mouse from a common mixing bowl and a single large spoon. There was also an excellent bottle of dessert wine, a Chateau d’Yquem sauterne from Bordeaux. We drank from the bottle, passing it among the three of us.

After dessert we moved to Joan and Hervé’s king-size bed, where we painted Joan’s tits with the last of the chocolate mouse and took turns licking it off of her. It was the beginning of a very long night and a great threesome.

Parent Post: Descent into Depravity – Author: Bluepen451

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