FFF: Mademoiselle

This is a sad day; this is my last FFF as host; next week Advizor takes over. Thanks to everyone who played during my short spell as host, and to my guest setters of prompts. You were fabulous.



It sounded so classy, so elegant and so graceful. The French language always does; gently caressing the sounds into a delicious blend of explosive sexiness and graceful dignity. A hint of elusive mystery, a dash of restraint all bustling with delicious flavours of intense beauty that entrances the listener.

Mademoiselle. Not Miss. Not Young lady. Nor Madam, Missus or Ms. But Mademoiselle. A word that conjures up demure gorgeousness, youthful exuberance and fine behaviour like none other.

And Marie was a mademoiselle. Five foot and ten inches of burlesque beauty wrapped up in sparkling sexiness with scandalous shenanigans dominating her twisted thoughts.

She never let an opportunity for alluring behaviour disappear without seizing it. I’d seen and experienced it.

Like the photo shoot; she engineered three lovely, painful hours with a photography student from the college; teasing and torturing the inexperienced hormone-filled teenager with her perverted pleasures.

First came the basque: skin-tight sexiness with playful poses. Then the stockings: hypnotic horniness on the luscious legs of the bewitching babe.

And lastly, as the tension peaked, the disappearing dress; one ounce of translucent apparel vanished into fluidity, exposing the delightful dame to the eager eyes of one astonished man.

FFF_0130And she made him a man, the naked madam rode his cock like a woman possessed, maintaining her composure for steady stream of photographs from his expensive camera.

Her milky bosom heaved as her hips glided over his waist, her cunt gripping his erect cock as drops of her liquefied dress landed on his skin.

And when they were done, she winked at him, blowing him a kiss as the French teacher strode confidently away the photography student; still naked and smiling.

“Mademoiselle,” I cried; my cock hanging from my legs. “Vous êtes fantastique!”

“Oui,” she cried. “Et demain?”

Oui, Mademoiselle!

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