Landed in Lyon airport, jet-lagged from Paris layover. Rented a beat-up Renault, tossed my suitcase in the trunk, punched Dombes into GPS. Foggy autumn drive through wetlands, parks everywhere. Pulled into gravel courtyard of my inherited 17th-century farmhouse. Old pisé walls, thatched roof, dirt floors. My stopover gig: check storm damage, renovate into B&B, fly out in days. No one knows me here. Pure anonymity.
Land Rover roars up. Out jumps Séverine, blonde crop hair, periwinkle eyes, athletic build. Camo pants hugging her ass, chainsaw slung over shoulder. Tree surgeon, recommended by a buddy. We hike the misty park. She strides ahead, ass flexing. Silent type, eyes scanning oaks, cedars. Storm wrecked the big blue Lebanese cedar. ‘Five days work,’ she grunts. ‘Room and board? Cheaper.’ I nod. My valise sits unpacked in the guest room upstairs. Carte magnétique? Nah, old iron key rattles in the lock. Distant chainsaw buzz fills the day.
The Layover
Afternoon heat hits. She calls me to the cedar. Massive trunk, needle carpet below. She’s way up, buzzing branches. I yell. She rappels down like a spider. ‘Come see.’ Hands me a harness. Kneels, straps my thighs, groin tightens on my bulge. Her hands brush my chest, cedar sap and chainsaw oil scent hits me. Pro as fuck, but my cock twitches. Up we go. Ladder shakes. Rope tugs my balls. Sweat pours. At her level, I’m hard as rock.
She leads higher. Ass cheeks straining fabric with each lift. Rope pulls, squeezes my dick. Seventy-five meters up, views explode: green fields, forests rolling out. She ties me to trunk. Proximity heats up. Her breath, sweat, sap. Decisions on cuts made. Descent fucks up. I tangle ropes, slip. Grab her. Face in neck, tits heaving against me. She steadies us, no panic.
Sit on branch. She pulls flask. Fir syrup booze, 70 proof. Burns like fire. We switch to tu. Laughs. ‘Aphrodisiac.’ Eyes my crotch. ‘Don’t need it.’ Blush hits. She can’t hold piss. Unzips, rolls pants down. Bushy pussy spreads, pink slit, fat lips, clit hood peeking. Long golden stream arcs down. Hot as hell. ‘Wipe me?’ She swings over, thighs straddle my face. ‘Lick.’ Tongue dives in. Salty, musky. Hips grind. She squirts honey nectar. I lap it up, neck aching, drool soaking shirt. Orgasms rip her, wolf howl echoes.
The Transit
She frees my cock, rough hand pumps. Sucks deep, teeth graze. Then impales. Tight, wet walls milk me. Rides wild, we cum together. Collapse, kiss. Legs jelly for descent.
Dinner quick. She wants nature fuck, not bed. ‘Bourgeois.’ Teases wolves at home. Crashes early. Next dawn, she’s on the oak. Buzz fades. Worry hits. Drive to her place. Brother points wooded path. Geodesic dome glows. Naked silhouette with wolves. ‘Strip or leave.’ Bare, Timber sniffs cock, ass, balls. Cold nose shocks. Licks face: accepted. Lilas watches, pup on my lap nibbles thighs.
Pear booze flows. She confesses: first guy in her den. Kisses deep. Sucks tits, fingers bush, rubs G-spot. She cums thrice, begs stop. I mount missionary, then doggy. Truffe on my asshole mid-thrust. Explode inside. Wolves curl around us under stars.
Dawn. ‘Work calls. Go now.’ Dress quick. Hug wolves. Drive separate. Back to airport tomorrow. Suitcase zipped, cedar pussy lingers. Best stopover ever.