A BBC in Paris

I sat in a hard wooden chair watching her dance on stage, she looked young, like nineteen, or twenty; slim and blonde. She moved about in a lazy fashion; I was certain there would be no fancy pole show for me that day.

I wasn't quite sure how I ended up in this second rate strip club here in Paris. A few days before I was a Dutch soldier working at the Multi-National Headquarters in Kabul until I got the call that my aunt had died. After the funeral I wandered the streets of Paris aimlessly. Tired and exhausted, I didn't notice the short bald Russian man who hustled me into the club and sat me down.

She was attractive, I looked at her closely as if for the first time. She stood perhaps five foot four, with almost milk white skin and pink nipples, but my heart wasn't into it. As if she had read my mind, she stopped her lame dance to sit beside me.

"I don't have any money." I said in English, hoping she'd understand.

"Don't worry..." She purred in a soft Eastern European voice.

We sat in silence as I dwelt on the meaning of life. She didn't seem to care either way. After a few minutes of this the fat little manager appeared with a half empty bottle of wine and two dirty glasses.

"You drink?" He said in broken English.

"I don't want it." I said, but he was already gone.

"My name is Irena." She said softly.

I looked at her small breasts before looking into her steel grey eyes and told her my name. She didn't seem to care as she poured herself a glass from the bottle.

Looking into those eyes again, it reminded me of a soldiers eye in combat, looking around for threats, sizing up dangerous, and seeking avenues of escape. Her face however was the opposite, bored, and disinterested. This all seemed rather pointless, me sitting here when I should be wallowing in self-pity with alcohol and pretty women. As if she sensed my true desires she put a hand on my knee.

"You are a handsome man." She said moving her hand up my leg.

Until that point I hadn't thought of asking for a lap dance, honesty, I hoped she'd just go away. She cupped my balls and smiled before laying a red silk handkerchief in my lap.

"I give dance, yes?" She asked.

"What ever." I mumbled back.

I wouldn't call it the worst lap dance I had ever received, but it wasn't all that good. She went through the motions of grinding her ass into my crotch, but my penis wasn't responding. It was almost as if she was long used to relying on her goods looks, and not talent to get a rise out of men.

She seemed oblivious to my lack of response as she continued her gyrations. Bored I grabbed her glass of wine and finished it, I hoped it would give me the liquid courage to survive this ordeal.

Techno music filled the room, I looked around at the haze of cigarette smoke, and empty chairs. It was mid afternoon, and aside from the two of us, there was just the manager, whom I couldn't see.

"You want more?" She asked sliding between my legs to end up on her knees.

"Nah." I replied as she undid my zipper, then attacked my belt buckle.

My heart started beating faster, although I had a nice job in the military, I also had expenses, which left me essentially broke. I also wondered when or who would wander in and interrupt us.

Privacy didn't seem important to Irena as she worked vigorously to bring my coiled snake to life. Most women would get offended or upset that a man wasn't instantly hard the moment his penis touches fresh air. Irena however took this as a challenge.

I had meant to push her away... as I said I had no money. However it dawned on me that aside from a run in with a reporter a month ago, I had been in Afghanistan induced dry spell! Heck, she was the first woman who I had seen more than just her eyes! That backward nation was overrun with women in the giant blue burkas that left too much to the imagination!

I could feel my cock growing along with my desire, in mere seconds she went from sucking to stroking. This Irena was quite the pro, when she had all of my eight inches of chocolate coloured cock in her mouth, and she was handle it with a minimum of fuss!

I wanted to say that I linked my fingers behind my head and acted cool while she went down on me, but this was my first blowjob in some time. I instead did my best to look cool, and not cum immediately!

I could tell that Irena wanted to stretch this out when she slowed her strokes. I however was ready to blow right here right now! If I were a squirrel, I had a whole winter's worth of nuts to share!

I wasn't sure if Irena was either cum shy, or cum hungry; to be safe, I filled my hand with her hair to keep her close. She didn't struggle, even when I brought her mouth back on to my rumbling erection.

Taking a few deep breaths, I knew I couldn't buy any more time. I held her tighter by the hair as she created the perfect seal with her lips on my cock. My final act was reaching with my spare hand to grasp her tight little breast, she didn't have a nippon until I helped create one for her. I rolled, tugged and teased it into its hardened state.

"Ffffffuuuuuccccckkkkk!!" I muffled out as I came into her mouth.

It felt as if I was urinating as my semen poured forth from my urethra; I knew that if I grabbed that empty glass of wine, I would have filled it! As each wave of my jizz entered poor Irena's mouth, she'd gulp it down, and hurried to stroke out the next wave.

After what felt like the longest orgasm of my life, and when there was no more of my seed racing out of my garden hose, Irena continued to coax out those last drops. It truly felt as if she were a vampire that lived off semen, and not blood.

With her belly filled, and my testicles drained, she returned to her seat to fill her glass and in one sip she finished it all! I felt deflated, it took me some time before I realized my dick was still flopping about in my lap.

When the manager appeared, I was still trying to catch my breath, I however had the common sense to tucked my exhausted hose away. He put a slip of paper on the table next to me. Irena finished her third glass of wine, leaving me with an empty bottle, to resume her lazy dance on stage.

I looked at the bill and my heart sank! It was 1200 Euros, which was easily more than $1500 dollars in the US. Each service was itemized and given an inflated value. For example, the seating fee was 50 Euro, the bottle of wine was 300, and the uncorking fee was 100!!

I stood up, I decided that I was tired of this non-sense, and planned on running for the door, however between me and the exit was a very tall muscular goon. Apparently there were four of us in this dirty strip club.

"Hello..." I said sizing up the six-foot four juice monkey standing before me.

He said nothing as he looked at me with an angry stare. The manager held up the bill as he spoke.

"Monsieur, you need to pay the house before you leave." He said in a tone as if the bill were 12 Euros, and not 1200.

"I told you I had no money on me earlier." I said in a strong voice, as if it mattered.

"No worries Monsieur." He replied. "Maybe we can telephone the PP?"

I mentally frowned at this, the last thing I wanted was trouble with the police, especially when they had an itemized list. I had a flight to catch back to the Stan, one I didn't want to miss.

"Or..." He said like it was a favour he was doing me.

The frown really did appear on my face as he continued to speak.

"Bruno can take you a bank machine." As he said this, Bruno started breaking his knuckles.

I felt that this wasn't the time or place to disagree; without touching me, Bruno led the way several blocks away to a lonely bank machine. There was none of the foot traffic that Paris was so famous for, it was so quiet that I was sure he had broken several legs here for similar bills.

"I'm telling you that I have no money." I said to the silent goon behind me.

Pulling out my banking card, I handed him the slip of paper showing that I had no funds to draw upon. He took it, but kept his eyes firmly on me, when he did glance down, I swung my fist at his face. I intended to knock him out cold quickly and waltz away.

Although he didn't see my punch, he expected it and raised his hand to engulf my fist. He raised his eyes back up at me and flashed me a smile that said he'd enjoy breaking my bones.

I've been in my share of fights, here in Europe, over in the USA, and many in Afghanistan against Taliban fighters. Regardless of the opponent the tactics are always the same; distract, then defeat.

Bruno didn't see my foot as I launched it into his groin. He instantly released my fist as he collapsed onto the ground with his hands between his legs. I then snapped my foot up to his temple, causing him to go limp. I knew a crotch shot wouldn't stop him for long.

Although time was limited, I casually cleaned his pockets out, finding some Euro's, his wallet, a set of brass knuckles, and a small knife. Not wanting those weapons used on me, I put them in the drain, and pocketing the rest as I strolled away.

With my bloodlust satisfied, I found my self sober, and sexually frustrated as I wandered the streets Paris. Knowing that I was walking the very cobblestoned streets that Napoleon, Vercingetorix, and even Hitler walked brought me little joy. I was still hung up on the passing of my aunt.

"Monsieur, monsieur!" Cried out a voice behind me.

I turned around, and set my feet shoulder width apart, if this were Bruno I'd be ready for him. Instead I saw a Frenchman of average height and build trying to get my attention. I was tempted to walk away, or even take a swing, but it was the lady behind him in the brown trench coat and red high heels that had my attention.

"What do you want?" I asked him in English, not sure of what would happen next.

"Monsieur, you look lonely." He said with a disarming smile. "We are lonely as well."

His statement made no sense, but I didn't feel like this was a trap, so I smiled back as I spoke. "It's true, I am very lonely."

He had dark brown hair, and carried himself with the swagger of a middle manager at an office; one that hadn't let the daily routine grind him down. The lady behind him must have been his wife, she looked dolled up, her face and hair were done up nicely; it was also at this moment I noticed her bare legs. No skirt or pants were visible under the trench coat.

Having figured out what they were seeking I held my hand out to her.

"Bonjour mon Charon, n'ayez pas peur." I said using a phrase I picked up in Montreal.

She pondered my poorly pronounced word before smiling and taking my hand. I spun her about, then pulled her close as I hugged her from behind. I could feel her heart beating fast, she was nervous, but not scared of me.

"Where shall we go?" Asked the man.

"Anywhere is good for me!" I said, then looked over at a phone booth. "Follow me."

"What if someone... regardez, um... sees us?" He asked.

"Je m'en fiche" I declared proudly, using the last of my French.

He looked at me queerly, apparently that wasn't a phrase in Parisian French. I however forgot about him as I stood by the phone booth door. I was face to face with his wife, as I brushed some stray hair out of her face, then whispered how beautiful she was.

Looking into her dark brown eyes, I could tell that I had won her over. Without blinking, or breaking eye contact I reached down to open her trench coat.

Her husband moved about like a busy bee, trying to keep people from looking. There was foot traffic, and an occasional car, however this was a neighbourhood where people minded their own business.

When I opened her coat, it revealed the treasure underneath, she was gorgeous! Although not very busty, she was slim and attractive. I could tell that she ate right and either ran often, or biked to work. Her nipples were a dark brown, and very erect.

I stepped into her coat with her, my arms went around her waist as our lips met. She tasted of cigarettes, wine, and something sweet like gum. Her skin was cool to the touch, but I knew she'd be very hot shortly.

Putting my fingers to her shaved mound, I could feel that she was very wet... had her husband eaten her out before they wandered the streets looking for cock? Did she apply sexual lubricant? Or was she just turned on? I didn't know, and it didn't much matter to me.

While I was fondling her, she was just as active! Her fingers danced across my stomach, playing my abs like a xylophone.

"Mon Dieu!" She cried out when her hand found my massive manhammer.

I could feel her wetness increasing; it was time to close this deal! In one fluid movement I picked her up and sat her on the ledge in front of the phone.

"Baise-moi ton singe couleur café!" She cried out.

I had no idea what she was saying, but it didn't matter, I was lost in my carnal lust. As I undid my zipper, she decided that this was her show. She grasped my caramel coloured rod, than spat into her hand before pulling it into herself.

"Mon Dieu, c'est tellement énorme!" She said loudly.

Amid her shouting, I put one hand on her hip to hold her steady during my initial thrusts. Slowly I picked up my pace, each thrust harder and louder than the preceding one. The slap of our bodies rang inside the small booth.

We had forgotten her husband, he had become a blur in my peripheral vision, from what I could glimpse he was both excited and panicked. At one point he pulled off his coat to cover the glass of the phone booth. There could have been a police car, but I was too lost in passion to care.

Her legs were intertwined with mine, while her hands moved from my shoulders to the phone booth wall for support as I jostled her up and down. I held her hips with both hands, but tiring of this, and so moved one to her breast.

She cooed as I grasped her perfect little boob; her bust was both small and tight, I was sure there was no pencil test she couldn't pass! I tugged and pinched each nipple as best I could between thrusts.

As I slammed my pelvis into hers I stared into her dark eyes. Over the years, I had noticed that some women squeeze their eyes shut and whilst others stare at the ceiling, or look for danger. She had a deep animalistic hungry in her eyes, it was so strong and intense that I doubt she blinked more than once.

Although I didn't want to break our hypnotic lock of eyes, I wanted to make this memorable! I pulled out, then stood her up, as I spun her about. Her coat hung open as she hugged the telephone.

"Monsieur!" Called her husband. "Vite! Vite! Someone shall surly see us!"

"Like a true Frenchman he had surrendered to his fears at the first opportunity!" I thought to myself as I jammed two fingers into his wife's mouth.

She instinctively lubricated my digits which I used to grease myself up before pushing the head of my hammer into her waiting hole. She grunted in pleasure as I kept pushing until I was fully seated inside her. We both paused for a moment to catch our breath.

"Merde, vous êtes gros! Sexe moi dur negre!" She cried out as I started sliding my man-piston in and out of her.

She said negre several times, while in the phone booth, it sounded a lot like neige, the French word for snow. I put that all in the back of my mind, I had a task to complete!

SMACK!!

Was the sound of my hand as it landed on her ass, I had precious little space to wind up, but I made the best with what I had. The first smack, left her poor cuckold of a husband as pink in the face as her ass cheek. Each smack made both her ass and his face redder.

"You must hurry!" He hissed, now looking both concerned and embarrassed.

His wife bickered at him loudly, I didn't understand her words, but I caught her intent, it was a verbal slap to him to not interfere. I could feel her already tight pussy clenching and unclenching; she was not ready for my pounding to cease!

It was at that moment I made my greatest mistake. I reached forward to squeeze her breast, it felt so firm, and her nipple hard as a nail. I suddenly felt the waves of pleasure that she was feeling, it was so overpowering of a sensation that I couldn't hold back any further!

"Ooooohhhhh FFFFFFUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKK!!" I cried out as I came.

She moaned loudly as she clawed at the glass whilst I shot my river of white goo into her waiting uterus. Much like the Germanic armies of old, which blitzkrieged across France, my sperm invaded places so deeply inside her, that I was sure it'd lead to several sleepless nights for her husband.

I stayed planted deep insider her, and unmoving as we both fought to catch our breath. The husband still made frantic motions of worry, but with a sigh of relief, I could feel my concerns drain out of me.

When I tried to move, the brown-haired woman I had my spear impaled into held me tightly by the thigh and whispered soft words. I had no plans about moving, my slowly deflating penis was so sensitive that I didn't want to move. As if she sensed this she moved minutely and laughed at my sudden gasp for air.

She moved quickly as she slid of my greased pole; almost as fast as a bandage being ripped off! I growled softly at being pulled from her womb. She again giggled as she spun around to face me again.

I pulled her closely for a deep kiss, her husband still danced about, but less panicked than before. I fondled her magical breasts, then pulled on both nipples, sending her into another frenzy.

Assuming that this was done, and I could find my way to Charles De Gaulle airport, I moved to pull away. She refused to let me go, instead digging her well-manicured nails into my thigh as we continued to kiss.

Mentally sighing, I settled in for a comfortable wait, she however had changed her mind a second. I tried to imagine her husbands daily frustrations with being married to a woman who always got her way, and yet was never satisfied. The thought didn't stay in my head too long, she lowered herself until she was eye to eye with my ebony spear. Anyone walking by would see her squatting down in the phone booth taking my cock into her mouth!

I tried to get my fist into my mouth to hold back the squeals of sensitivity that ran through my body. A sane man would have either pushed her away, or embrace the sensation, I however felt as though I were stuck in some sort of pleasure/torture chamber with clear walls.

Her husband freaked out a new, he thought this was over, but his wife was now draining me of the last of my sacred seed. He paced back and forth, tossing his hands in the air, cussing, and finally using his coat again to conceal us.

It was at that moment I realized two things; first was that she had a great head of hair, with no dandruff, and second was that she didn't know how to give head to such a large penis.

Her husband and every man she had ever gone down on must have had five-inchers, or was able to withstand the grating of teeth on flesh. I quickly forgot about being over sensitive as shooting pain raced across my organ!

Unsure of how to shut this torture down, she suddenly halted her beaver like attack upon my black oak. She stood up, with a hand on her jaw, I assumed that she couldn't keep her mouth open long enough.

She made to kiss me, but I wasn't having it, I opened the doorway to step-out, I then quickly tucked my aching manhood away. I was greeted by the husband. He looked both relieved and excited.

The wife stepped out to join us, and quickly sought me out for a final embrace. I held no malice for her giving me the worst blowjob of my life and pulled her into my arms, she whispered loving words; it sounded like she wanted me to go home with them and spend the night.

When she leaned in for a final deep kiss, I managed to dodge her face, and present my cheek, when she tried again, she got my other cheek. She seemed miffed at my reluctance to supply her with a French kiss, but that wasn't my style.