It was in the mid to late 90s and I was backpacking with a male friend.
I was 19 and still a virgin (I actually had my first time some months later, with my friend's sister, but that's for another time).
We were in a bit of a shithole backwater town in a certain Central American country, and we stayed the night in a tiny, cheap, crumbling rough hotel.
During the evening, I noticed a French couple who were also travelling, they were older, maybe 25 or a bit more. The guy was just your average bloke, seemed approachable, bit geeky, nothing fancy or glamorous, he could have been your average burger flipper or office worker.
We didn't talk but he gave us English kids a bit of a nod as a greeting. Like us, he was in casual clothes that had been around the block a few times.
His girlfriend, though, was just an exceptional specimen of humanity. She looked like she had just stepped straight out of a high fashion shoot at a grand chateau or by some glamorous pool. Considering we were in Craphole-tenango, it was amazing that not one strand of hair was out of place, not a single item of clothing seemed cheap, battered, or generally stained by travel on the old rickety school buses.
She seemed haughty, super bitchy, superior to us mere mortals. Snooty in a hyper cool way that is effortlessly and uniquely French.
They seemed an oddly matched couple. But you know, people are people.
Anyway, everyone went to bed, with this French couple in the room beside us apparently. Paper thin walls, possibly even with open rafters joining both rooms together.
No one sleeps really well in these rickety, worn out beds in the hot tropical night, so I wasn't surprised when I woke up around 2:30 in the morning.
As I swam into consciousness, I quickly realised that there were some shenanigans going on. Now, I'd heard people fuck before, especially in the previous few weeks. A lot of these hotels also had beds by the hour, so a knocking and creaking of the bed, the odd groan and the occasional muffled "¡Ay, Dios mio!" was just totally normal by now.
But this, this was different. Fuck, they were working up something volcanic.
He was obviously just absolutely nailing and pounding her, twisting her up and letting her down, then pushing her way back up to the brink again.
I'd heard porno moans before, but this was unhinged, she was absolutely feral, climbing the walls and submitting absolutely everything in the most primal way that I'd never imagined possible.
I wasn't sure their bed was going to survive. His power and energy as he took, took, took was almost unbelievable.
Of course I was rock hard, I looked over and my friend was fast asleep, so obviously I couldn't help stroking myself desperately as they fucked mere inches from me.
It went on and on. I don't remember the French guy saying a single thing or making any verbal noise, but his haughty chic bitch of a girlfriend was now quite obviously *his* slut. Something to be thrown around and pinned. A plaything, merely a little puppet that he could lead on a merry dance of power, pleasure and control.
She shouted, she swore, she growled, she mewed and she panted.... I couldn't help myself and finally blew a huge cum load into a spare pair of boxer shorts.
Somehow it ended, I'm not sure who was more delirious at the end of it. I dropped to sleep....
Waking up in the morning to a normal day, I had to question whether I'd had some sort of fever dream. I couldn't talk to my friend about it.
Downstairs, there was some sort of breakfast in the dusty sunshine. They were there, the French couple. She was still immaculate, a mirror of bitchy 'fuck you'-ness. But him? Well, he looked over at us once more, gave that nod again. But this time, I caught the tiniest fleeting flicker of a cheeky smile. Blink and you miss it.
You bastard, you cheeky talented absolute studmuffin of a French bastard....
I still think about them sometimes. I hope he's still nailing the utter soul out of his toy, and I genuinely hope she's still melting for him and enjoying every. single. slutty. sexual. second. 🫦 |
