Rain lashed the tiny Limousin village café window. My bike slumped outside like forgotten luggage, panniers dripping. Husband pedaled off for the car—three hours minimum. I shivered at the counter, tight lycra shorts hugging my ass, soaked top plastered to my 95B tits. Véronique, 35, 1.72m, 65kg, frozen solid.
Hot chocolate barely touched the chill. Two farmers eyed me: Julien, 62, weathered grin; son Léonard, 39, shy glances. ‘You look freezing, madame,’ Julien said. Offered unmarked bottle gnôle. ‘Warms the bones.’ First sip scorched my throat, coughs exploding. Heat bloomed inside. Second glass spun my head.
The Stopover
‘Farm’s close. Dry clothes, fire.’ Husband hours away, currents whistling—why not? Their battered 4L bumped down dead-end lane to tidy stone farmhouse. Impersonal vast hall, summer fire crackling. Julien dug out late wife’s gear: bra, panties, skirt, blouse, sweater. Musty but dry, perfect fit.
Léonard led upstairs, big callused hand in mine. Shiver shot straight to my pussy. Bathroom door hung loose. Hot shower steamed me alive. Eyes shut, jets pounding. Peeked—Léonard watching through crack. Eyes locked. He fled. I spread legs, two fingers plunging wet slit, his rough hands in mind. Quick, shuddering cum.
Dressed, downstairs. More perfumed moonshine. Lonely chat: no women left in dying farms. Léonard, virgin at 39, never danced. Pity surged, lust hotter. Hand on his, stroking. Stood behind, kneading muscled shoulders. Fingers dove under shirt, tweaking hairy nipple. Heat flooded my cunt.
‘Bedroom. Now.’ His room modern-papered, storm clouds brooding outside. Straddled his abs, legs wide under skirt. Unbuttoned shirt slow, hands roaming furry chest. Kissed neck to navel. Ass met rock-hard bulge—electric jolt. Shed top, bra. Guided trembling hands to tits. ‘Gentle.’ He learned fast, rolling nipples. Waves built—I came hard, collapsing on him.
The Transit
‘Teach you pussy now.’ But first, belt undone, thick cock throbbed. Teased through briefs, then sucked deep. He exploded down my throat, endless hot jets. I came again. Recovered, tutored fingers on my spread lips, clit circles. ‘Faster.’ Brutal orgasm ripped me.
Cock rigid. Missionary: guided him in, legs locked, balls-deep thrusts. We synced, cumming together—sperm flooding deep.
Julien doorway shadow. ‘Join.’ Sucked his stiff dick—musky, hard for 62. Then DP setup: rode Julien’s cock vaginal, slick with cum and juice. Léonard tongued my asshole wet, then pushed in. Gland popped, full thrust. Sandwiched, cocks separated thin, pistoning sync. Julien spurted first, Léonard followed. My scream echoed, ultimate orgasm.
Sweaty heap, licks, kisses. Clothes dried fireside. Left panties for Léonard—long kiss. Snagged phone numbers. ‘Tree trimming?’ They grinned. 4L back to café. Husband rolled up minutes later. Bike loaded, silent drive home. Pussy still throbbed, memories sealed.