I was wandering around the neighborhood. On our fourth and next-to-last day in Paris, I knew the area pretty well. I reveled in some time alone and the sense of almost being French. On the other hand, I didn’t much like the idea of Daddy being with that woman, Marie, up in our apartment. I don’t know what I was thinking. And now he was probably fucking her with his lovely big cock that for the past week had been all mine. Well, it was all mine if you don’t count his masturbating.
Daddy and I bought some fruit every day at the little farmer’s market on Rue de Buci, around the corner from our rental. Daddy said we got a really good deal on the apartment because our five nights fit exactly between two other, much longer rentals. Since it was so hard to eat healthy on this trip, we shopped for fruit and vegetables to make up for it. And today, for the third time, we saw Marie buying stuff there, too.
“Come on, Daddy,” I’d said, “ask her out for a drink or something. She’s hot and she dresses like she’s available. And she speaks English. And you both like strawberries.”
All I wanted was for my dad to hover a little less. Don’t get me wrong – I love him totally and the sex is amazing and I appreciate all he’s done for me on this trip and showing me around Europe, but it can be too much! I should have just asked for an afternoon off. Sometimes I outsmart myself. Anyway, after some persuasion including using my shoulder to push him her direction, he finally made his big move. He asked her for help choosing carrots, as if we really needed more carrots or anyone needs help buying them. Then he introduced me and used me for bait.
“We, um, are going to the Pub St. Germain around the corner so, uh, Ashley can have a milkshake, would you, um, want to join us? Maybe, um, tell Ashley about Paris?” Smooth, that’s my dad.
I was a well-behaved daughter. I let her buy me the milkshake when she learned my seventeenth birthday had been the week before. I pretended to be interested in how she studied at Cornell and lived somewhere in New York a bunch of years ago before moving back to France. It was a tiny bit interesting that her daughter was twenty and in college. Her son was my age. Yada yada.
We went back to our apartment so she could help Daddy drink the champagne he’d bought the day we arrived. I saw how dad was walking and looked at where his zipper was and could tell his cock was a little bit stiff. I’m guessing she could, too.
They sat on the sofa and I got the big squishy chair. At least they gave me half a glass of champagne. I knew I should like it, but there were too many bubbles and it smelled like bread dough. I didn’t finish it. Daddy suggested another milkshake and even twitched his head toward the door to let me know that I should leave.
“Can I have twenty euros, Daddy?” I asked. I could probably have asked for more. If he pays me so he can have sex with a strange woman does that make one of us a hooker? Maybe I’m the pimp?
So now I was used chick bait walking around in circles, while Daddy did who knew what. We’d had sex every night so far this trip. He’d better not use it all up.
I found a new bunch of food places a couple blocks away on Rue Lobineau. Four days and I never knew this place was here, a collection of vendors that weren’t even 5% of the Boqueria in Barcelona. I bought a Coke, sat and drank it. Daddy would never see her again, so it wasn’t that big a deal, I told myself. He should be with someone his own age once in a while, I thought. She probably wouldn’t put out, anyway.
I walked another couple blocks to the Café Deux Magots, which I knew was famous for having had famous people there, and past the church. I was about two blocks from home and had to pee.
I walked faster and figured I could probably use the restroom where I’d had the milkshake, but the closer I got to the entrance to our building, the worse I had to pee, like my bladder knew we were close to a bathroom, but didn’t know it was the wrong one. If I couldn’t use the one at the pub, I’d probably wet myself. I went through our building’s front door, raced through the courtyard, past the bicycle rack and up the stairs – the elevator would have taken forever – and let myself into our place.
“I have to pee!” I yelled and ran into the bathroom. I didn’t even close the front door or the door to the bathroom. I barely got on the toilet in time. That could have been really embarrassing. It felt really good to pee that hard. When I came out and saw they weren’t in the living room, I hesitated, but walked into the bedroom. They were under the sheet, mostly, the bedspread on the floor. Marie was sitting up, her boobs exposed, her nipples hard. So much for not putting out. Slut.
“Sorry, Daddy,” I said, “I really had to pee. I’ll just hang in the living room, OK?”
“Sure, honey, just close the door.”
Marie was smiling at me, just as if she wasn’t a bad person, and licked her lips, which I guessed had already been on daddy’s cock. She didn’t say anything.
I sat on the sofa and pouted. I thought about turning on the TV, which never had anything good on. There weren’t any movies like the hotel in Spain. The bottle of champagne on the coffee table was empty.
Marie’s boobs were even better than mom’s, sort of like my friend Jessica’s, but bigger, and more curvy than round. If you make me pick a fruit, I’m going with pineapples, but then you miss the curves like a skateboard ramp. Her hair dark brown fell down to her boobs, like Princess Kate. She was, I thought, very pretty. I decided I would listen to them fuck.
I put my ear to the door and couldn’t hear anything. Kneeling on the floor and bending over, I tried the gap under the door. The floor was dirty, so I couldn’t get all the way down, but I did hear bedsprings. I totally wanted more than sound effects. I turned the knob and opened the door just the tiniest crack. I heard sounds of slurping and skin slapping and some grunting, but I couldn’t tell what was going on. No one was talking. This was almost boring. I opened the door far enough to look in.
Daddy was on top and she had her legs wrapped around his waist. I could see his cock plunging into her cunt and partway back out, and in, and back . . . her boobs bounced up and down, jeez I wished mine could do that . . . Daddy finally said something, which might have been, “I’m coming," and he jammed his cock all the way in and left it there, while his ass and legs clenched. His ass shoved forward like he was pushing it in deeper, but I think his cock was already as deep as it would go and he was just pushing her toward the wall. He collapsed on top of her, gently, and left his cock inside her to shrivel up.
I opened the door wide and stood in the frame.
“Am I interrupting anything?” I wanted Marie to be shocked or outraged or embarrassed, it didn’t matter which.
I heard a muffled, “What do you think?” from Daddy.
Marie said, “Hello, dear, want to join us?”
What the fuck?
Marie continued, “You father told me, after I’d asked him where everyone slept with only one bed, and after I found your panties between the sheets, that you and he have been . . . intimate.”
She paused and I would have said something if I’d thought of anything.
“I applaud you, in a way. I often thought about having sex with my father, but never had your bravery. And family sex is completely legal in France, you know, or at least it was until a few years ago, and now it’s mostly legal. We’re not so judgmental about these things as . . . people in your country.”
I walked into the room and stood close to her. Daddy had rolled off and the sheet looked wet where it touched his cock.
“So you can join us, or not,” Marie continued, “but it might be a fun memory of Paris and I think your father and I would enjoy it. While I’m not sure the pill he took will work miracles, it has been very good so far or maybe that’s just how he is. Your father has an especially nice cock – I hope he hasn’t ruined you for more average men. It’s nice that he’s circumcised. I learned to like that when I lived in America. It’s not so common here, but then all cock is good, n’est pas?”
She reached out and touched my jeans. Her hand moved up and pressed my pussy. I looked into her brown eyes and she looked back. She rubbed me there and said, “You know, and I tell you this only because you are soon leaving Paris, I have lusted after my own children. When I see them naked, I want to show them everything. Perhaps you can give me some courage.”
I didn’t move away – I liked how her hand felt. She made me feel like the grown up I was. I unbuttoned my blouse and let it fall to the floor. With some embarrassment, I unclasped my bra (why do I even wear this thing?) and it joined my blouse. I couldn’t believe how good her fingers felt through my jeans, almost like masturbating.
“You have lovely breasts, Ashley. I wish I had smaller breasts like you.”
Was she nuts? Daddy, all this time, was just watching and listening. He didn’t look like he’d be in shape to fuck anybody anytime soon.
“Well,” I said, “thanks, but that’s ridiculous, no offense. I’d give anything for your boobs.
