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Autumn in Quebec

The boss takes his assistant to new heights in Quebec City
I always liked Quebec City. It truly is a beautiful town. It’s North America with French flair. Conversely, you could think of it as France sans the bad attitude. The Old Town, vieux-Quebec, feels like a town in the old continent, populated by nice Canadians. After you’ve been there a while, you understand why Quebecers want to preserve their culture, even to the extent of being treated differently than the rest of Canada. They are different, and they have plenty worth preserving. I’m sure Canadians will find a way to save what’s beautiful and special about Quebec, without breaking up their country along language lines. Canada is one of the most admirable democracies on the planet, and it would be a shame to split it up.

My favourite season to travel to Quebec is the fall, when the temperature is just right and Mother Nature puts on a spectacle of colours which is unrivaled in its beauty. A walk around the Old Town, around the Chateau Frontenac or through the Plaines d’Abraham is enough to transport you to another time, a sweeter life a better world. That’s why I planned my business trip for the last week in September, and I brought Sophie with me: my young co-worker, a star employee, my ideal woman, my lover, my paramour. Quebec is great. Quebec in autumn is fantastic. Quebec in autumn with Sophie was… perfection. Without exaggeration, the pinnacle of my life experience.

I can try to describe Sophie, but I’m afraid I can hardly do her justice. She is a stunning beauty in a petite frame (about 5’1”, 105 lbs). Her chestnut-brown hair falls down below her shoulders, in waves, though she likes to straighten it ‘because it makes her look more mature’. I prefer her hair au naturel, tied in a loose pony tail, but I understand why she would want to look older. At 25 years old, she looks maybe 21 and people at work don’t take her seriously when they first meet her, before they see how sharp and smart she is. Her skin is white, with a hint of olive, like a light Mediterranean skin color. Big, expressive eyes, darker than you would expect from her complexion, almost black, over a small, pointy, cute little nose. Her smile is perfect, and she wears it often: her beautiful full lips frame perfect white teeth and a small black spot over her upper lip on the left side draws your attention to her mouth. Her sweet demeanor makes her prettier and her silky voice is a tad deeper than you would expect from such a tiny girl. Her body is exquisite: perky, medium-sized, firm breasts; flat stomach; lovely, heart-shaped buttocks; firm, perfectly shaped legs without a trace of cellulite. I admire her hands, though she is self-conscious of them. She has strong hands, a legacy from her days as a promising young gymnast. Not big, not rough, just... not fragile, but smooth and strong. She would prefer to have dainty, more delicate hands, but I think they reflect her strong character and so are just right. I love sucking on her fingers, tasting her, rolling my tongue around her, feeling the intimacy of having a bit of her inside me.

Our relationship is totally inappropriate and taboo on all levels. I am her boss. I am twice her age. We are both married and have families. On a scale of 1 to 10, she’s an 11; I’m an 8 at best. Yet, she came on to me, flirted with me, fed my imagination and I could not resist. I still find it hard to believe that she picked me to have an affair, but I’ve tried hard to understand. She grew up in a conservative family, with a dominant father who oppressed both her and her young mother with his jealousy. She went to a hard-line Opus Dei Catholic school. She was always required to repress her sexuality, to bury her feelings, to give up her fantasies. She married a nice, conservative man, from a nice, conservative family, who could give her a stable life. A nice, bland, fantasy-free life. After so many years of this, she needed to explore her sexuality. She wanted to feel wanted, feel like she could be a bad girl if she chose, feel dominated, she wanted to get fucked. At the same time, she wanted to keep her family. Her husband was a good man and she didn’t want to hurt him, or give him cause to fight her for custody of their daughter. But she still wanted to feel like a woman. For some reason, she chose me. She thought I could give her a good time in bed and I wouldn’t be a big risk, since I had a wife and family of my own.

And she was right. My wife and I were still friends, but we had not had sex in a long time. I felt that I could not satisfy her and she no longer turned me on, so we had just given up on sex. She turned to her church as a substitute for me. She commented to her friends about our nonexistent sex life, a couple of times in front of me and that grated on me. It was worse when she got drunk. I felt... emasculated, diminished. If I could not satisfy her, I thought, maybe she needed a real man, a more manly man than me. I imagined her getting fucked by a big man, a younger man with a big cock, right in front of me and loving it. In my imagination, she came over and over while fucking a big cock and told me she enjoyed it. I felt... not good enough, inadequate, like it was all my fault. On the other hand, when Sophie let me know that she was interested in me, I felt great. I myself longed to feel wanted, to feel that I was an interesting mate. Sophie made me feel like a whole man and that is the greatest aphrodisiac.

For months I had watched her in the office: sitting in her cubicle, bending over to retrieve files, presenting her work. After more than a year of this, we started our affair. I told her I could not offer more than a series of sordid evenings together and she was fine with that. The sex turned out to be nothing short of spectacular. She was far and away the best lover I had ever had. She was multi-orgasmic and allowed herself to come with me several times, each time we had an encounter. Bringing her to orgasm was the best feeling I ever had. It made me feel powerful to hear her squeal and talk dirty, to feel her squirm and shake while I pounded her. I’m proud to have been the first man to eat out her pussy and even more so because she loved it. Sophie made me feel like a man, like an alpha male. She would stroke my cock and tell me I was very well endowed, which was balm for my ego, even if I knew it wasn’t exactly true. I wanted to bring her more pleasure, so I started researching women’s sexuality and female orgasms on the internet. I found a lot of information and videos about how to improve my lovemaking techniques: cunnilingus, use of the hands, positions, and new, bold ideas. Sophie’s beauty and personality motivated me to become a better lover for her and my research seemed to pay off in bed. She enjoyed the way I made love to her, she told me so openly and even contributed some ideas to keep our affair fresh. My sessions with her became the highlight of my life.

When the opportunity came up to have a business trip together in Quebec, I made plans to have some free time with her, away from work and our respective spouses, just her and me, alone in a city where nobody knew us. We spent three days in meetings and business lunches and dinners and I arranged for us to be together as lovers from Friday evening to Sunday morning. I wanted that Saturday to be something special. Sophie had never been to Quebec and I wanted her to enjoy her first visit.

We booked a suite Friday at the Hotel le Germain-Dominion on Rue St.-Pierre, a short walk from the heart of vieux-Quebec, on the 8th floor, so we would have a view of the river. I chose the hotel because it was supposed to have a charming, romantic feel and it did not disappoint. We went to our suite, after the last business dinner of the week, where we started to celebrate our time together with friendly, open conversation and a light lovemaking session. This would be the first time we would sleep together, but we were both tired and we wanted to rest, in order to make the most of Saturday.

The next day, the morning sun woke us. Sophie smiled and felt my morning erection before I relieved myself. We got out of bed to see clear blue skies and an unforgettable view of the St. Lawrence River, to start the day right. By the time we finished breakfast, the sun had warmed up the morning to a balmy 21 C. We went out sightseeing, Sophie a vision of youthful good looks, in navy-blue slacks, striped white/blue long-sleeved blouse, a delicate pearl necklace and heels. We took in two of the city’s four stone gate arches, stopped in a plaza to get our cartoon portraits done by a local artist, walked around some of the parks hand in hand. Sophie had not seen the fall colours like this and it made me feel special to be the one to show her. We ended the day with a walk down the charming and picturesque Rue du Petit Champlain, to do a bit of antiquing and have a look at the galleries. Sophie is an accomplished artist, among her many talents and has a taste for fine art. I could not imagine a better day.

We dined at Panache, a very cozy restaurant on Rue St. Antoine. We shared the artichokes, cheese and pan seared sea bass, with an exquisite lemon sauce and a bottle of California chardonnay. Our dessert was sorbet, lime for her and mandarin orange for me. The food was marvellous, but the conversation was unforgettable. We opened up to each other and talked about our spouses, our parents, our hopes and plans for the future, and we each mentioned some items on our “bucket list”. During the course of the day, we grew closer, bonded like young lovers do. We were in our own bubble. That evening, my world started and ended with this incredible creature who sat before me and told me that she could not stop having sex with me; no matter how wrong it was, because it was just too good. I was living a dream.

We walked back to our suite in a trance. I wrapped my arm around her shoulders to warm her in the cool of the evening. Once inside, we embraced. I kissed her lightly, on her lips, her ears, her neck. Her hair smelled fresh, but not flowery. I looked into her impossibly dark brown eyes and gently caressed her cheek with the back of my fingers. She closed her eyes and kissed me passionately. She licked my lips softly, then received my tongue in her mouth. I caressed her lower back under her blouse and undid her bra. I moved my hands to her waist, then circled her erect nipples with my thumbs. She took off her blouse and bra, then her slacks, so she was soon standing in front of me wearing just her thong, heels and pearl necklace. She grabbed my belt, as if she would take my pants off, then paused. She wanted to reward me for a perfect day.

“I want to be all yours tonight” she said in a low voice. “I want you to do whatever you want with me tonight. You own my body, my mouth, pussy and ass. I will do whatever you want. You can come in my mouth or fuck me in the ass and I swear I’ll enjoy it. Make me yours. I want to give myself up to you.”

Her dark, deep eyes looked profoundly into mine. She was not smiling. She wanted to feel like a slut. Aphrodite herself stood before me naked and was asking me to make her my bitch.

I breathed deep and embraced her again, while I pondered my response. I had never had much luck with women. I had been a bit of a nerd in college and I had failed sexually in my marriage. I’m not exactly confident in the take-charge, manly man role and I sure didn’t feel sexy. But this was what she wanted. She saw in me a real man, a confident, mature male lover, even if I did not feel like one. Just as my marriage had broken my self-confidence and had made me doubt my masculinity, Sophie offered me a way to get them back.

“I am a real man,” I said to myself, “So stop doubting and take charge.”

Sophie had given me what was probably the best gift since my dad had given me the self-confidence and the opportunity to pursue my dreams, over three decades ago.

I pressed against her so that she could feel my rock-hard erection. I cupped her ass cheek with one hand and slid my other hand down the front of her thong. She was moist and trembling in the very dim light. I took command. I took off her thong and let it drop to the floor and then she stepped out of it.

“I want to watch you walk, wearing nothing but heels and your necklace." I said, as I unbuttoned my shirt. “I want you to walk slowly down to the coffee table and let me watch you move gracefully. Put on a little show for me.”

I was still dressed and she was naked, which made me feel more in charge. I sat on the edge of the bed, took off my shoes and socks and watched.

She was nervous. She had never done this before, for me or anybody else. But she had given herself up to me, so she did as I said. She sashayed slowly a few steps away from me, so I could watch her from behind, as her hips rocked gracefully. Her high-heeled shoes lifted her firm ass and made her gait seem so much more feminine. She put her hands on the back of the armchair and spread her legs, about shoulder-width apart and then she bent her torso forward, so I could get a view of her pussy and ass from behind.

My cock throbbed and I started breathing heavily when she slid her hand over her labia, and gently grazed her clitoris. Then she ambled some more and gave me a view of her side, and bent forward to undo her shoe strap, with one knee bent below her and the other straight. That vision was seared in my mind. Then she did the other side. She stepped closer to me, then stood with her legs spread slightly, reaching for the ceiling with her hands together.

“Is that what you had in mind?” she asked, with a sly smile on her beautiful lips.

She ran her hands over her belly and below her breasts.

“Come to me,” I said, as I took off my shirt.

I felt the warmth of her beautiful naked body against my chest. I caressed her back again, then slid my hands down to her ass, to squeeze and spread her buttocks, as I licked and sucked on her breasts. She moaned with pleasure and it turned me on even more. I lifted her easily, then lay her on the bed. I kissed her breasts and her belly, stopping to circle my tongue in her bellybutton. She always got off when I ate her, so it had become a bit of a favourite of mine. I followed my usual, effective routine. I licked her labia to get a taste of her, then kissed and licked her clitoris lightly.

Already, she was encouraging me, “Oh, god, don’t stop! Oh yeah, oh yeah! Fuuuuuccckkkkk! Lick me baby! It’s so good!”

Then I sucked her clitoris and moved my tongue around it inside my mouth. I ‘wrote out the alphabet with my tongue over her clit – I just can’t help being a nerd, I guess – A, B, C, D,... I think I’ve never gotten past H with Sophie before she comes.

I could feel my power, as she exploded with an, “Aaaaaaaaagghhhh!”

She grabbed my hair and pulled my face hard into her. I love it when she does that. She shook for almost a minute before she started breathing normally and opened her eyes again.

“Oh, fuck, where did you learn that?” She asked.

“Youtube” I responded. We laughed.

“Have you ever done this to another girl?”

“Not really. I learned this just for you.”

Now I wonder why she asked. Maybe she wanted me to tell her the details about other lovers I had had. Maybe she wanted me to tell her how other women experience orgasms. I never found out.

After some small talk and more kissing, I penetrated her in the ‘missionary’ position. My next move from there was to lift her ankles close to her head, in order to raise her hips and give me a better angle to penetrate her. I stuffed some pillows under her back to make the position easier. This position has become one of our favourites, because Sophie said it gave her the most intense feeling, plus she felt completely at my mercy. She came long and hard again in no time, her eyes opened wide, looking into mine, furrowed brow, mouth open as she alternately screamed and gasped for air.

I was able to make her come twice again after that, once with her on top, the other sucking her clit while I rubbed her g-spot with my fingers. I knew what she liked and I knew to vary my moves. A man’s orgasm is simple, a woman’s is complex. I believe that if they taught guys how to bring a woman to orgasm as part of sex education, we would not have as many failed relationships in our society as we do. I did my research in order to find out how to please my lover. Most guys never do. When I saw her sweating in bed, breathing heavily, smiling at me, I figured I could make my next move.

I kept a little vial of grape seed oil in my suitcase that I bought a while back, but I had never had a chance to use it as lubricant. She had told me earlier that she was open to anything, that I owned her, so I figured there would not be a better time to try something new. I took out the oil and asked her to turn over. She smiled slyly.

“What are you going to do to me?” She asked.

“I want to fuck you in the ass” I said, matter-of-factly. “You told me you had done this before, yes?”

“Once, a long time ago, with an old boyfriend,” she responded, “And it hurt a lot. No matter. I want you to do it. I want to feel you in me, everywhere. I want to feel that you make me yours.”

She moved her ass up and down as I massaged her buttocks with the oil. She took some lubricant in her hand and applied it to my rock-hard erection. I stuck my middle finger in her ass and added my index finger after a few seconds. I moved my hand in and out.

“Ooooooohhhh... this is gonna be intense...” she said, with her eyes closed, my cock still in her hand.

I moved behind her and spread her legs. She arched her back to raise her glistening ass and offer it to me. I spread her cheeks with one hand and with the other guided my cock to her puckered opening. I rubbed the head up and down her crack and that made her moan again. I wanted to go very slow, to build up the moment of penetration until she was completely ready.

“Ohhhhh, fuck my ass, already, baby... Do it to me PLEASE!” She moaned.

I knew she was ready then.

I penetrated her slowly. She gasped when I put the head in, so I stopped when I was partially inside and told her to relax. She took a couple of deep breaths and I felt her sphincter loosening. I pushed inside further slowly until I was in all the way.

I lowered my face close to hers and said, “That’s all there is, baby. Are you OK?”

“Yesssss...” she answered, in a small voice. “Fuck me that way.”

She started moving her ass up and down slowly with my shaft inside her asshole. I let her take me without moving at first, but then I started fucking her harder.

Hearing her say, “Oh god, oh god, oh god, fuck my ass... I’m getting buttfucked and I love it!” just got me more excited, and I stopped trying to hold myself back.

She slid her hands down to her pussy, and rubbed her clit as I pounded her ass.

Fucking this beautiful young woman in her tight ass really made me feel like I had power over her! It was so dirty! I felt the energy build up inside me.

“Aaaaaaaarrrrrrrgggghhhhhh!” I spilled my semen into her rectum with a primal roar.

The sound and feeling of my orgasm must have pushed her over the edge, because she came hard two seconds later, as I collapsed on top of her. I lay on her for a while, still enjoying the orgasm, her buttocks pressed against my abdomen.

All I could say was, “Wow... wow... wow!”

We took a shower together after that and talked about our day. She said her ass had felt like a volcano. But that would not be her last time. Coming, while having her ass fucked went a long ways to explore her dark side, to feel like a bad girl. She wanted me to do it again, some other time. She repeated to me that I owned her when we were together. We went back to bed to embrace and caress each other, and joked, talked, sucked, fucked, and slept intermittently through the night.

I enjoyed our conversations as much as sex. In fact, I would not enjoy the sex as much if it were not for the psychological bond we had created and the conversation would not be as open without the sex. I felt more freedom and power that night than at any point in my life before. I felt... whole. Quebec had been special. Quebec would be our secret place.
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