Passion in Paris
Don Abdul ©
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It's been two years since my wife died. Silvia was the most beautiful woman in the whole world, 5'7" tall and almost 250 lbs; she carried her weight with great elegance too. I'm a guy, who is eternally in love with Big Beautiful Women, and my late wife Silvia was the quintessential BBW and I loved her and everything about her.
It had taken all of two years to settle affairs (domestic, emotional and otherwise) and for me to move on and start afresh. It was both a blessing and a curse that we had no children. I found another very good job that entails quite a lot of traveling much of which was abroad. I'm an IT/Network security consultant for a computer company and handsomely paid for being on call around the clock.
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I finally psyched myself into testing the waters of the dating/sex game again during my last working trip to France. It all began when the waiter at the restaurant of the hotel where I was staying walked up to my table as I was waiting to dine alone and whispered politely; "Excuse me monsieur, but the lady over at table 8 requested that I deliver this note to you".
"Thank you!" I said, trying to hide my curiosity as I accepted and then read the message scribbled on the folded rich note paper. It simply said, "Would you please join me?"
I waited a moment, savoring the beautiful soft scent of the note paper before turning in the direction the waiter had indicated earlier. That was when I saw her smiling face for the very first time; well not quite. I had in fact noticed her on at least two occasions in the past couple of days. She always had dinner in the restaurant, at about the same time as me.
When I arrived at her table, she stood up to receive me; "Please you must pardon a desperate woman's ... presumptuousness" she fished for the right word in her French accented English.
"It's just that I noticed that you always dined alone, just like me.... And I thought, we should help each other find good company, no?" she added by way of justifying her audacious gambit.
"Oh, that's alright ma'am. To be honest with you, I'd much rather be in good company too".
"I am Giselle Cotillard" she introduced herself proffering her hand.
Taking her thick well manicured hand with elegant nails I responded; Jeff Shore at your service"... and then noticing her wedding ring I added with a tiny hint of disappointment, "Madame Cotillard".
Following my eyes, she smiled and wiggled her ring finger; "Oh! Please call me Giselle". We had dinner together and shared a bottle of the house red with a helping of small talk. Then she suggested I allow her to show me a different side of Paris.
As we walked out of the restaurant, I got a very good look at her. Giselle was a plump package of beauty and elegance; she stood at 5'8" and was a good 260 lbs. As I stepped aside to let her through the door,
I was magnetically drawn to her voluptuous ass and wide hips, it seemed a perfect counter balance to her gorgeous big breasts.
She showed me around Paris and we ended up at an upscale bar. As we talked some more over our drinks, I became even more aware of her incredibly beautiful face, perfect sexy eyes and heart warming smile. The basis of my attraction to her quickly changed from erotic curiosity to intense sexual longing... What's more, unlike a lot of bigger women, she did not wear baggy clothes hide her body.
Giselle wore clothes that flattered her and flaunted her sexy hot curves, and my sexual attraction soon mixed with the liquor in my gut to produce a burning desire to fuck her. It was time to bell the wild cat, so I asked; "So Giselle, where is the lucky monsieur Cotillard?"
"Umgh!" She sighed unhappily, "Where else, out and about pursuing his skinny bimbos I suppose. The bastard probably has his face buried in the cunt of some skinny slut as we speak."
"Wow! If you're so unhappy about all this why stay in a loveless marriage?"
She looked at me incredulously and laughed, "You Americans! You cannot understand."
"Oh yeah? Try me" I said suddenly hopeful for the evening.
"Three things; first I'm French, it's allowed for him to keep a mistress.... Or two."
"Second he loves and provides generously for all my material needs."
She was quiet for a moment, so I urged her on. "And third?"
She looked up, her eyes sparkling with a new fire in them; "Ah! Third, I can do whatever I like too." She concluded with a naughty wink.
She looked into my eyes, and asked suddenly, "What are you thinking, that I'm a slut?" That was when it happened, a classic case of Freudian slip. I just blurted out my thought exactly...
"I would love to fuck you"
My face turned red the moment I realized I just said my thought out loud. A pin drop silence ensued for what seemed an eternity; I could almost hear the thumping sound of my erection. Then suddenly she asked in a husky voice, "Your place or mine?"
To be continued....
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