sac of his scrotum. The rest of his length was buried deep inside the split of the woman’s hole. Her pussy was a lush velvet pink. Glimpses of cerise labia peeped from the dark damp forest of dense pubic curls. Her flushed and glossy lips travelled easily up and down his erection and she moaned with languid enthusiasm.
‘The cafetière is still warm,’ Sartine said, gesturing to a small table by his side. Justine could see that aside from drinks and crockery there was also a modest selection of croissants. After all that had happened the previous day she knew she should have been hungry but, absorbed by the unexpected intimacy on display, she couldn’t bring herself to think about food or drink. She watched the couple on the table as they increased the pace of their lovemaking by a fraction of a beat.
‘Don’t they make a splendid coupling?’
Sartine could have been speaking the same words that echoed through her mind. After the sordid and unsettling events in the church Justine could only marvel over the beauty of the naked pair on the centre of the table. There was none of the disquiet she had felt as she came to terms with obeying the priest’s sacrilegious commands and the participants were perfect specimens of healthy and desirable normality. Admittedly, she could have argued that there was little normality in the pair riding each other on a dining table in the centre of a public room, while staff and guests stood around watching. But, after being used by a priest and bishop beneath statues of Mary and Jesus, Justine couldn’t bring herself to condemn the pair for their choice of location.
‘They look absolutely splendid,’ Justine whispered.
The woman turned to grace her with a warm and welcoming smile. ‘ Merci ,’ she murmured, before turning back to the man beneath her. Her hips didn’t once lose their perfect rhythm. As she turned and spoke she continued to glide up and down her lover’s long fat erection with perfect practised precision.
‘I enjoy watching all my staff,’ Sartine explained easily.
He climbed from his chair and chivalrously guided Justine into a seat. With a snap of his fingers he had summoned a maid who set about the chore of organising coffee and a couple of croissants for Justine. She was placed at the foot of the table and had the perfect view of the erection sliding in and out of the beautiful French woman. The sight was so absorbing Justine couldn’t drag her gaze away. The food and drink remained forgotten in front of her. The scents of freshly baked bread and delightfully bitter coffee were ignored as she inhaled the perfume of sweat, sex and nudity.
‘I don’t consider myself a voyeur per se,’ Sartine explained as he resumed his seat at the head of the table. He spoke as though they were involved in a hearty discussion, rather than an exchange where Justine had barely managed four coherent words. ‘But there’s something aesthetically stimulating about the human form during sex. I love to watch the rise and fall of Marie’s breasts; the tension in Pierre’s body; the beautiful union where their bodies meet; and, of course, the beauty of orgasm. I could watch them for hours, especially when the specimens involved are as stunning as this pair.’
Justine was finally able to drag her gaze away from Pierre and Marie. Even when she wasn’t looking she could still catch the scents of their warm bodies and hear the grunts and moans of their pleasure. Although she didn’t consider herself to be an expert, she thought it sounded like they were using each other with a forced slowness. The urgency of each gasp, and the wetness easing from Marie’s cleft and along Pierre’s shaft, made it clear that the couple were close to their inevitable release. Taking a deep breath, and hoping her voice sounded steady, Justine asked, ‘Do you have the manuscript, Captain Sartine?’
He laughed. ‘That’s a very direct question.’
‘I’m here to acquire a
‘The cafetière is still warm,’ Sartine said, gesturing to a small table by his side. Justine could see that aside from drinks and crockery there was also a modest selection of croissants. After all that had happened the previous day she knew she should have been hungry but, absorbed by the unexpected intimacy on display, she couldn’t bring herself to think about food or drink. She watched the couple on the table as they increased the pace of their lovemaking by a fraction of a beat.
‘Don’t they make a splendid coupling?’
Sartine could have been speaking the same words that echoed through her mind. After the sordid and unsettling events in the church Justine could only marvel over the beauty of the naked pair on the centre of the table. There was none of the disquiet she had felt as she came to terms with obeying the priest’s sacrilegious commands and the participants were perfect specimens of healthy and desirable normality. Admittedly, she could have argued that there was little normality in the pair riding each other on a dining table in the centre of a public room, while staff and guests stood around watching. But, after being used by a priest and bishop beneath statues of Mary and Jesus, Justine couldn’t bring herself to condemn the pair for their choice of location.
‘They look absolutely splendid,’ Justine whispered.
The woman turned to grace her with a warm and welcoming smile. ‘ Merci ,’ she murmured, before turning back to the man beneath her. Her hips didn’t once lose their perfect rhythm. As she turned and spoke she continued to glide up and down her lover’s long fat erection with perfect practised precision.
‘I enjoy watching all my staff,’ Sartine explained easily.
He climbed from his chair and chivalrously guided Justine into a seat. With a snap of his fingers he had summoned a maid who set about the chore of organising coffee and a couple of croissants for Justine. She was placed at the foot of the table and had the perfect view of the erection sliding in and out of the beautiful French woman. The sight was so absorbing Justine couldn’t drag her gaze away. The food and drink remained forgotten in front of her. The scents of freshly baked bread and delightfully bitter coffee were ignored as she inhaled the perfume of sweat, sex and nudity.
‘I don’t consider myself a voyeur per se,’ Sartine explained as he resumed his seat at the head of the table. He spoke as though they were involved in a hearty discussion, rather than an exchange where Justine had barely managed four coherent words. ‘But there’s something aesthetically stimulating about the human form during sex. I love to watch the rise and fall of Marie’s breasts; the tension in Pierre’s body; the beautiful union where their bodies meet; and, of course, the beauty of orgasm. I could watch them for hours, especially when the specimens involved are as stunning as this pair.’
Justine was finally able to drag her gaze away from Pierre and Marie. Even when she wasn’t looking she could still catch the scents of their warm bodies and hear the grunts and moans of their pleasure. Although she didn’t consider herself to be an expert, she thought it sounded like they were using each other with a forced slowness. The urgency of each gasp, and the wetness easing from Marie’s cleft and along Pierre’s shaft, made it clear that the couple were close to their inevitable release. Taking a deep breath, and hoping her voice sounded steady, Justine asked, ‘Do you have the manuscript, Captain Sartine?’
He laughed. ‘That’s a very direct question.’
‘I’m here to acquire a
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