Bordeaux, finally! After that super hot little game with Gilles on the train, I arrive at Saint-Jean station with my cheeks still a bit flushed. I take the tram towards the city centre, and as soon as I’m on board I pull out my phone to message Thomas, my couchsurfing host for tonight.
He’s a guy I found on the app, 28 years old, super clean profile, photos of a nice flat and of him with a shy smile. He accepted my request instantly, and honestly, that intrigues me.
« Hi Thomas! I’ve just arrived in Bordeaux, I’ll be at the bottom of your building around 7:30 pm, does that work for you? 😊 »
He replies in under two minutes: « Yes perfect! I’ll wait for you downstairs in front of the building. » Already adorable.
When I arrive in front of the building in the Saint-Pierre neighbourhood, he’s there, right on time. Wow, he looks way younger than in his photos, like 23–24 at most. A bit skinny, messy hair, glasses, and… oof, he’s absolutely drowned in perfume. It smells like a teenager trying way too hard to impress. He gives me an awkward cheek kiss, already blushing, and I can feel he’s super intimidated.
I bet this is the first time a girl is sleeping at his place.
We go up to his flat, a small two-room place that’s clean but kind of empty, the typical “single guy who’s always lived alone” vibe. I drop my bag and start the conversation because he barely says three words. I bombard him with questions: his job (he works in IT, remote), his hobbies (video games, series), and little by little he relaxes.
He admits he’s been single “basically forever”. I give him my sweetest smile: “Don’t worry, you’re cute, it’ll happen!”
We decide to eat something together. He’s made carbonara pasta, nothing fancy but tasty, and we open a small bottle of red wine. Afterwards he suggests going out for a drink in the Saint-Michel neighbourhood, just next door. Nice vibe, lively bars, we get mojitos, and that’s when he finally loosens up a bit.
He laughs at my jokes, holds eye contact a little too long… I can tell he’s completely under my spell.
On the way back, we’re both pleasantly tipsy. When we reach the door of the flat, I throw out playfully: “So… are you inviting me in for one last drink, or should I just go straight to bed?” He turns bright red, stammers “uh… yes… of course… if you want…” and opens the door with hands that are practically shaking.
Too cute.
We sit on the sofa, finish the bottle of wine. And then, in a moment of silence, he murmurs very quietly: “To be honest… I’ve never had a girlfriend. And… I’m still a virgin.” He says it while staring at his shoes, dying of embarrassment. Instead of feeling sorry for him, I feel a rush of excitement rising. He’s so innocent, so clumsy… it makes me want to play.
I slide a little closer, put my hand on his arm. “Hey, you’ve got time, you’re only 28! It’s really not a big deal. Some people wait even longer, and it’ll just make the moment even more intense when it happens.” He looks at me with big puppy-dog eyes, and I can see he’s on the verge of breaking.
He offers to give me the bedroom and he’ll take the sofa. “No way, it’s your place, I can sleep on the sofa!” I say, but he insists. So I go: “Okay fine, but I’m all gross from the trip… mind if I take a quick shower?” He shakes his head vigorously, “No no, go ahead!”
I head to the bathroom, take a nice hot shower, and decide to have a little fun. I come out wearing just a towel wrapped tightly but quite short, and I walk past him in the living room with a naughty little smile. “Just going to put my pyjamas on!” He looks away but I know he’s peeking.
In the bedroom, I deliberately leave the door slightly ajar. I drop the towel, stay naked for a couple of seconds knowing he could see if he walked by, then slip into my ultra-short nightie – the one that barely covers my bum and clings to everything. No panties underneath, obviously.
I come back to the living room to say goodnight. He’s already in pyjamas, sitting on the sofa, and… oh my God. There’s a massive bulge straining the fabric. He crosses his legs to hide it, but too late, I’ve seen it.
I come closer, sit facing him on the armchair, spreading my legs just a tiny bit so he has a direct view of my perfectly waxed little pussy (just a neat landing strip, I love that).
“Will you be okay on the sofa with… that?” I ask, pointing at the bulge with a mischievous smile. He turns purple, stammers “uh… yeah… it’s fine…” while grabbing a cushion to put on his lap.
I laugh softly. “You sure? Because it’s not good to stay like that, you know… You should relieve yourself a bit. It’ll relax you.” He looks at me, shocked. “When was the last time you did it?” He mumbles “Last night…” avoiding my eyes.
I stand up, sit right next to him on the sofa, really close. “Go on, you can do it now, it doesn’t bother me at all. On the contrary, I’d even enjoy it.” He shakes his head, mortified, “No… I can’t… not in front of you…”
I decide to push further. I slowly reach out, slip my hand under the waistband of his pyjamas, and the moment I barely brush his cock he’s rock-hard… and BAM! A huge spurt of cum shoots out instantly, splashing everywhere – on his pyjamas, on my hand, hot and plentiful. He moans uncontrollably, eyes closed, totally overwhelmed.
I pull my hand back laughing softly, lick a little off my fingers right in front of him just to drive him even crazier. “Wow… you were really backed up, huh?” He’s there panting, red as a tomato, unable to speak.
This night is shaping up to be… interesting. 😏