Everything I Never Said The Reunion
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Amalie Ch. 02 free porn video
This story should be read in conjunction with ‘Amalie’. C.
The story so far: Peter is allowed to ‘seduce’ the sexually voracious Amalie. Just as he searches for the words to tell her that he doesn’t think that he can keep up with her sexually, he reads her letter telling him that what they had that night could not last, that she would not allow herself to fall in love, and that she could not stay true to one man.
My head is spinning from so many emotions competing for centre stage. I know that I cannot possibly keep up with her sexual appetite, but there must be something I can do about that. I was in awe of her sensuality, she was by far the sexiest woman I have ever met, her face, her body, the way that she walked, it was pure sex. I was hurt that she left without saying goodbye. I was hurt that she said there was no hope for me, for us. I was consoled that she actually thought, briefly that she could change because of me. I was consoled that she considered me to be her best lover.
I sat, staring at her letter, a mixture of hope and despair. Could my hope surpass my despair as the dominant emotion? If so, what could I do? She has said that I would be wasting my time looking for her because she has gone. I don’t know where to start because I don’t even know her last name. I don’t know the name of the person who owns the apartment, or his friend who allowed her to use it. Think dammit! You have a brain, use it.
My first decision is, do I want to find her? Do I take the chance of finding something more than lust with her, or do I risk the disappointment in not being able to keep up with her lifestyle?
On my third cup of breakfast I had reached a decision. I would find her!
I sent an Email to my boss informing that I was availing myself of 4 weeks of accrued leave and to transfer my salary into my bank account. I then rang cab companies until I found the one that had picked her up from our building. As luck would have it her driver had just finished his shift and returned to base. With a sob story about her leaving important possessions behind, he agreed to speak to me.
‘I am trying to find where she lives so that I can forward her belongings to her.’
‘You mean to say that you know this woman but don’t know where she lives?’
‘I have only known her for a short time, we didn’t quite get around to discussing our long term future before she had to return to Paris. You must have seen a luggage tag, what was on in?’
‘Just the name ‘A. Baptiste and Montparnasse’
It wasn’t much, but it was a start. I booked on the first available flight to Paris and checked into a pension close to Montparnasse. I would decide how to go about finding her when I get there.
I began by looking in the telephone directory for all Baptistes who lived in Montparnasse. There were five of them but none with the first name initial ‘A’. Could it be that she was married? Could she be unmarried and living with her parents? Worse still she could be married but the luggage label was still in her single name? There was only one way to find out and that was to call all of them and ask for her by name, hoping that she answered the telephone and not her husband. There was one major stumbling block to this plan, I spoke absolutely no French.
Armed with a phrase book, I picked up the phone and dialled the first number on my list. A man answered. ‘Allo?’
‘Allo. Pardonez moi M’sieur. Je suis chercher une femme, Amalie Baptiste?’
‘You may speak English M’sieur.’
‘Merci beaucoup. I am looking for a woman named Amalie Baptiste. All the I know of her is that she either lives in Montparnasse or used to live here.’
‘You are in luck M’sieur, (I couldn’t believe it, jackpot on my first call) but then you may not be in luck. She is my step-daughter, but I regret to inform you that she is married. Her husband, is I believe, working overseas and she has recently returned from there. Why do you seek her?’
‘I met her briefly not long ago and she said that if I ever found myself in Paris I should call on her. (What a fucking lie!) Unfortunately for me I misplaced her address and telephone number.’
‘I see. Allow me to speak with her and if she wishes to meet you she will call you, where can you be reached?’
I gave him the address and phone number of the Pension. There was nothing left but to wait, wait in the hope that she will see me after telling me not to look for her.
For the next two days I ventured out to sightsee my way around Paris, having told the proprietor of the Pension, Madam Foucault, to take a message if anyone called. I saw the Louvre, the Notre Dame, I took a boat ride down the Seine, I walked in the Bois de Boulogne, I drank coffee in Montmartre, I even managed to get a cancellation and dine at Maxim’s.
When I returned from that particular pleasure I was met by Madame Foucault who told me that I had a visitor. ‘How long ago?’ I asked her.
‘She waits for you still, she has been here for nearly two hours. She insisted on waiting so I let her into your room.’
I opened my door to be greeted by, nothing. The was no sign of her until I entered my bedroom, and there she was, asleep in my bed. Even in sleep she was the most sensual person I’ve ever met. I crossed to the bed and lowered myself to lie beside her.
‘Pierre, Cheri is it you?’
‘Oui.’ I kissed her and immediately she was wide awake and had flung her arms around my neck and was raining kisses all over my face. I took her face in my hands and pulled mine away from hers. ‘Amalie, before we get too carried away, we need to talk. I read your letter and from I got the impression that you are afraid.’
‘Afraid of what?’
‘Afraid of commitment, afraid of allowing the needs of your heart over-ride the needs of your body, afraid of falling in love. I’m not saying that you don’t have feelings for your husband, but you said that, while you knew that it was impossible between us, you had wondered if it could be.’
‘I didn’t want to ‘urt you Pierre, I didn’t want you to believe in somesing that ‘ad no future. I admit that I was thinking if it could be, but my ‘ead would not allow it. We must be practical.’
‘But tonight your actions deny those thoughts.’
‘It is true. When I came ‘ere, it was to tell you to go ‘ome and forget all about me, but when you kiss me, all I wanted was to love you. It is something that I cannot explain.’
‘When you left I was sad because I loved everything about you, you are the sexiest, most beautiful woman that I have ever met, and I must admit that I did begin to fall in love with you, and yes, I realised that there are some hurdles that we will have to climb over if this is to lead to anything. My reason for coming here is to see you again and to find out for myself how high the hurdles are and if I want to climb them, if you are interested in climbing them.’
‘But Cheri, what about my ‘usband?’
‘Your husband is away working. You said yourself that you can’t be true to one man. What I would like is for you to come with me, I want to travel to the Auvergne, Carcassonne and Beziers, I have read of the history of those places and want to see it for myself. I want to see more of France than Paris, in fact if it were not for the hope of seeing you I would have left Paris days ago. Come with me please, Amalie.’
‘I will come wis you, but I do not want you to believe sat everysing will be pairfect.’
‘I’ve wanted to do this. Amalie, voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir?’
‘Oui m’sieur. But Pierre, that is so formal, if you and I were lovers, you would ask, ‘tu coucher avec moi ce soir?’ Je répondre, oui aussi.’
She threw back the covers revealing that gorgeous, sensuous body that I loved so well not long, but too long, ago. I hastily took off my clothes and climbed in beside her. Even before I had fully settled in bed she was in my arms and hungrily kissing my l
ips, my face, my neck. I took her face in my hands and drew it to mine, I kissed her gently, but not without passion, and she realised that I wanted to take my time and luxuriate in her presence, that I was more interested in her as a person I could love, rather than as the recipient of my sperm. She said one word that said it all, ‘D’accord.’
I kissed her again, easing my tongue into her mouth and caressing hers, my hands were stroking her face, her hair, her neck, my fingers barely touched her but her reaction was more intense than the last time. She held me close, her hands not straying from my neck, the noise that I could hardly hear was not the frantic aah, aah, or huh, huh, as before but a contented ‘Mmmmm,’
My fingers began their slow journey down her body, still barely touching her, little shudders of pleasure followed their touch, her nipples were erect and hard by the time I reached them, and she pushed herself against my fingers. I rolled a nipple between my thumb and forefinger, ‘Ahh.’
Her body pressed against mine, I could feel her heat, but she didn’t perform those movements that aroused me so much. She was content to let me make the pace this time. She was enjoying letting me make the pace.
My fingers moved down her spine to her arse crack. I idly drew small circles on her coccyx that sent shivers throughout her body. I cupped her cheeks and pulled her hips in to me, my cock was hard and pointing towards my waist and my balls fitted nicely into the hollow where her body disappeared between her legs. This time it was a shudder that ran through her body. ‘Mon Dieu, I have nevair felt anysing like zis before, you have not touched my pussy, you cock is not between my legs and yet I ‘ave ze orgasm, How can zis be?’
‘That my sweet, is the difference between having sex and making love. I could have fucked you but you would never be sure that I loved you as opposed to using your body, to lust. I find it much more enjoyable, and there is more to come, much more. I do not know yet if I am in love with you, but I do love making you feel loved.’ I reached my hand between her legs and my finger pushed gently between her pussy lips without penetrating inside. I moved it slowly back and forth, stopping short of her clit.
Amalie’s fingers followed the actions of mine and traced their way down my body and when she eventually arrived at my cock, it was all that I could do to prevent myself from cumming immediately. She sensed this and decreased her pressure on my shaft until I could hardly feel it. I could hardly feel it but my cock was very much aware of the presence of her gentle fingers. I had won the first round, she had now realised that there was a difference between the sexual pleasure and fulfilment to be gained with someone who you truly cared for and the purely selfish gratification of carnal needs.
I fondled her pussy, still without penetrating her, and her reaction was more than I had anticipated. She whimpered, she sobbed, she let go of my cock and pulled me to her, ‘Je t’aime, Cherie, I ‘ave nevair felt zis way before. I tell you zat I ‘ave ‘ad many, many lovairs but you are ze first who ‘as made me feel like zis.’
I kissed her gently, ‘Amalie, my sweet,’ I whispered to her mouth, ‘I believe that I love you also. I am going to ask for one thing, and that is for you to hold me as you are, to hold me as if the pain of letting me go will be too great for you to bear, and we will go to sleep, without me fucking you, without you fucking me and tomorrow, before we leave for our holiday together, we will consummate our love for each other properly, with tender love and true affection. Would you do that for me, for the me whose body is telling his heart to forget all this love bullshit and just get on with fucking the sexiest, most sensual body I have ever held.’
‘Pierre, Cheri,’ I could feel the tears running down her cheeks, ‘Zat is the most wonderful zing zat any man has asked me to do, and I know it will be ‘ard for my body to remain still for this night, but I also know zat zis is what my ‘art desires.’ Her arms tightened around me and her lips met mine, but without the urgency of lust.
Several times during that night I woke to find Amalie’s relaxed arms still around me and each time, when I moved, she tightened her grip on me and her lips would find mine, but she didn’t wake beyond a ‘Mmmmmm,’ of contentment.
I woke in heaven and I was being caressed by an angel, her lips, her fingers, were moving slowly across my body, down my legs, without touching my painfully erect cock. I flinched when fingertips circled my balls a couple of times before moving back up my body to my face. ‘Ah, I see you are awake Cheri. Be still Môn amour, it is my turn to give the pleasures of ze ‘art.’ With that she returned to her caressing, only this time she included my cock. She was between my legs and I could see her face as she crept up on him, her expression was one that took my breath away with its pure sensuality. She lavished so much sensual pleasure on it that I was in danger of cumming all over the place and it was only then that she positioned herself over it and lowered herself until she had it fully enclosed.
But there was none of the hip tilting movements of before, she used her muscles to caress him, to love him, to fondle him, and all the while she was herself moving closer to her own climax, and when it came it wasn’t the world shattering experience that she had expected, it was a much more powerful experience for her, made even more powerful by my unleashing of wave after wave of warm, sticky cum deep inside her body. For the first time since we had met again, her kiss was one of unbridled passion, not the passion of lust, of carnal pleasure, but of an understanding of love.
She turned her head from me. Curious as to why she did this, I took her head in my hands and turned it back. Her eyes were awash with tears. ‘I’m so sorry Cheri,’ she sobbed. ‘So sorry for ze way zat I treated you. I sink zat to please a man you ‘ave only to fuck ‘im. But now, because of you I know zat zere is more zan zat. To make ze man ‘appy you must love from wizin.’
‘Not all men are like me. Many of the men that you have fucked would be satisfied with what you gave them, they would also be satisfied with masturbation, watching porn movies, reading porn magazines. For them sex is an end to itself, but to me, sex, or making love, is part of a much greater experience and one that, once experienced you will never forget.’
‘When will you leave?’
‘As soon as we make love again, and then we will go to your house while you pack some clothes and then we leave.’
It took longer for us to make love than it took for Amalie to pack her things but it was still early afternoon when we boarded a train for Toulouse where we would pick up a car for the rest of out trip.
I had rented a small villa in Bezier that we would use as our base for exploring the region. It was supplied with most of the essentials for our stay, we only needed to pick up fresh produce for our meals.
Amalie revelled in her role as my wife, she was a brilliant cook and an entertaining companion during our tours around the district, she seemed to have an extensive knowledge of not only the places to go and things to see, but about the history, in particular the Cathar peoples who were so cruelly treated by Simon de Montfort. This was the reason that I chose to come here and to have someone so conversant in their history, someone as beautiful as Amalie, was for me a bonus.
We ate the regional foods, drank the regional wines and in the evening we lay in bed discussing what we had seen and done during the day, and after that, well. ‘I ‘ave nevair been zis content.’ She purred, her arms around my neck and her naked body stretched alongside mine, touching for its entire length.
I kissed her in the manner that she had come to love. I caressed her in the manner that she had come to love. I loved her in the manner that she ha
d come to love. I traced her body with my fingertips, I kissed her body in the wake of my fingers, and when I reached her pussy I licked her with a tenderness that had her quivering with anticipation, and when I eventually slid my cock into her anxiously waiting pussy it started a chain reaction of orgasms that lasted for as long as I was inside her.
When we were alone in our house we walked naked, unashamed of our nudity, in fact we were so comfortable with our bodies that we would willingly respond to our needs, pausing in the middle of doing some chore to caress each other, which inevitably led to our making love.
Amalie began to express her love for me in a much more open and unguarded manner and I did the same for her, we were so comfortable in our oneness that it was inevitable that I should eventually express my desire to take our relationship to the next level. We were in bed, at the end of a day of touring, and I was caressing her nipple while kissing her neck. ‘Amalie, will you marry me?’
‘Cheri, I would do it in a minuit, but for one leetle zing, alas I am already married. I will come to you and live wiz you as ‘usband and wife, but I cannot marry you.’
‘I’m not asking you to marry me this instant, I want you to file for divorce from your husband and when it is final, then we can marry. If you want to live with me until then, I would love that.’
From that moment we became, for all intents and purposes, man and wife, and the next day, while we were shopping for food, I bought her a ring which she happily placed on her finger to replace her wedding band that she had taken off the night before. Amalie was mine.
After two weeks soaking up the weather, the sights and the foods of that part of France, we reluctantly had to return to Paris. It, sadly, was time for me to leave, it was also time for Amalie to apply for a resident Visa. Because this would take some time I reluctantly had to leave her behind.
It was during my last night in Paris that I learned about Amalie’s life. The man that I had spoken to, her step-father, was her mother’s third husband. She was not married to Amalie’s biological father, who it turned out, was a government official, and who would come in useful in processing her Visa application. Amalie’s mother, in her early years, up until age and the ravages of a hard life intervened, was what is known in France as a ‘demimondaine’, a lady of dubious reputation. Her discreet liaisons were always with important and influential men. She it was who taught Amalie that to get ahead in this world a woman had to be freely able to give pleasure to a man. Love, commitment, long term relationships were words that we never spoken in that world. Her marriages were marriages of convenience, when money was in short supply one sought out a wealthy lover and if he desired to marry, then so be it. The marriage was always on the condition that he overlook her indiscretions and, when and if she tired of her husband which she invariably did, they would divorce amicably and go their separate ways, she substantially richer.
This is how it was with Amalie, she was studying to be a chef and was finding it difficult to make ends meet on a student’s allowance. Her mother was between husbands so was unable to supplement Amalie’s meagre allowance so it was suggested that a suitable husband be found. Jean-Claude Fachineaux was a Mining Engineer who worked on projects around the world. His job took him away from his home and wife for long periods of time which slotted nicely into Amalie’s plans. She completed her studies, but because her husband earned a large salary, there was no need for her to work, so she didn’t.
His absences also meant that she was often bored, and took many lovers as a cure for that boredom, which was how she came to meet the lover who invited her to move into my apartment block. If I could find him I would thank him.
The inevitable outcome of this lifestyle was the fear of commitment, the fear of losing control over the situation. Amalie was taught that the woman, if she provided the desired service at a satisfactory level, was always in control. What I had introduced into the equation by taking from her some of the control over the lovemaking, was a sharing of control. Sharing was a new experience for her, for while she had, up to a point, shared a life with her husband, that point was very small indeed. Her decision to share her entire life with me was such a radical departure from the usual that I was overwhelmed by its magnitude.
Kierra
- 12.03.2020
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