Fuck, after the weekend with Lena, I'm completely wiped out. My dick is raw like old Parmesan, my brain is looping on images of hot piss and squirt straight in the face, and I feel like human garbage. Gisèle sends me dirty texts every day – "Come fuck me tonight, big boy, I've got a new toy for your ass" – and Lena posts teasers on OnlyFans with blurred screenshots of our fuck, which is making her subscribers skyrocket like a bubble stock. Even the blonde and her brunette girlfriend seem to know I'm watching, because their lesbian shows are getting more and more exhibitionist – they're literally fucking pressed against the window now. And the couple? They've hired a regular babysitter so they can get high and fuck every night without restraint. Paris has turned me into a goddamn ass magnet: everyone around me seems ready to strip and cum in public.
I can't take it anymore. I decide to run away. Not move house – too expensive, too much hassle – but just get away from this cursed bay window. Action plan: go out every evening after work, hit normal bars, meet people who talk about football or politics instead of jerking each other off from a distance. Maybe even hit on a colleague, just to fuck like a normal adult, without cameras, without piss, without a hairy old lady.
First evening of the great escape: Wednesday. I get home, ditch my trader clothes, put on a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and head to the local bar, "Le Comptoir", a noisy place with giant screens for the matches. I arrive around 8 p.m., order a pint, and sit at the counter. Around me, guys in suits unwinding, women in tailored outfits laughing loudly. No ass in sight, perfect. I chat with the bartender about the weather – yeah, I've sunk that low – and watch the PSG match against whoever. Nice and calm.
And then she arrives. A woman in her thirties, flaming redhead, tight red dress screaming "fuck me tonight". She sits two stools away, orders a Martini, crosses her legs and gives me a sideways glance. Damn, she's hot: generous tits straining the fabric, round ass on the stool, plump lips sucking the straw like a pro. I feel my cock waking up, but I tell myself: no, David, you're here to escape the ass, not dive back in.
Too late. She turns to me: "Hi, are you new around here? I've never seen you before." Husky voice, predator smile. We talk: her name is Sophie, she works in marketing at La Défense, recently divorced, looking to "have fun". I tell her about my life as a recent provincial arrival, we laugh, we order another round. On the third joke she puts her hand on my thigh, and I know it's over.
We end up at her place, an apartment two streets from mine – irony of fate. As soon as the door closes, she pins me against the wall, kisses me like she's starving, her tongue exploring my mouth while her hand grabs my dick through my jeans. "You're already hard, huh? I love guys like you." She slips off her dress in one move, left in a red thong and push-up bra that makes her tits overflow. I grab them, suck them through the lace, she moans "yes, bite them".
She drags me to the bedroom, pushes me onto the bed, undoes my pants and pulls out my cock. "Not bad for a provincial." She licks it slowly, from the head to the balls, drooling everywhere, then swallows it deep while looking me in the eyes. I hold her head, fuck her mouth gently at first, then harder when she begs for it. She coughs a little but loves it, her eyes watering with pleasure.
Then she climbs onto my face, thong pulled aside, shaved pussy already soaked as she grinds it on my face. "Lick me, make me cum." I dive my tongue in, suck her swollen clit, slide two fingers into her dripping hole. She writhes, smears my face, moans like a bitch. And then the twist: she lifts up a bit, says "open your mouth", and pisses a hot jet straight inside. Salty, warm, dirty taste – fuck, piss again? But I'm hard as never before, I swallow some, the rest runs down my chest. She laughs: "You like that, huh? My ex hated it, but you're a good boy."
She slides down, impales herself on my cock in one go, starts riding like a bitch in heat. Her tits bounce, I slap them, pinch them. She speeds up, rubs her clit at the same time, cums screaming, her pussy squeezing my cock. I flip her over, take her doggy style, slap her red ass, slide a finger into her asshole while I pound her. She begs "deeper", I pull her hair, she explodes again, squirting on the sheets.
I finish her in missionary, legs on my shoulders, pounding until I shoot deep inside her, powerful jets that make her shake. We collapse, breathless, covered in sweat and piss.
The next morning, I head to work with a stupid grin, but deep down I'm thinking: shit, even when I try to escape, I end up with girls who piss on me. Paris has cursed me.