湖畔の家のレッスン

The screen door slapped shut behind me, and I heard her laugh echo off the water. Camille was already on the dock, toweling off her hair, the late afternoon sun catching the drops on her shoulders. I’d been her trainer for six months, but this weekend retreat was a different kind of training.

“You’re slow, Marc,” she called out, not turning around. “I thought French women were supposed to be chased.”

I dropped my gym bag on the deck. “I thought they were supposed to surrender.”

She turned then, and the towel fell to the planks. Her bikini was tiny, black, and barely holding on. “Surrender?” She walked toward me, barefoot, hips rolling. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”

The lake house was mine — a family relic, all cedar and dust. She’d suggested it when I mentioned needing a break. “I need a break too,” she’d said, tapping her manicured nail on her phone. “Somewhere quiet. Just us.”

Now she was three feet away, smelling like chlorine and coconut oil.

“I’ve been watching you for weeks,” she said, reaching out to trace the collar of my shirt. “All those squats. All those lunges. You think I didn’t notice you adjusting yourself behind me?”

My throat went dry. “You’re my client.”

“I’m a woman,” she said, stepping closer. Her breasts brushed my chest. “And you’re a man. And we’re alone.”

I kissed her. It wasn’t gentle. She bit my lip, hard, and I groaned into her mouth. Her hands were already at my belt, fumbling with the buckle.

“I want you to fuck me on that dock,” she whispered, pulling back just enough to look at me. “Where anyone could see.”

“There’s no one for miles.”

“Exactly.” She smiled, wicked and slow. “So you have no excuse.”

She dropped to her knees on the weathered boards, and I watched her unzip my jeans. Her fingers were cool, deliberate. She pulled my cock out and held it like she was examining a piece of art.

“Merde,” she breathed. “That’s… impressive.”

“You’ve been training hard.”

She laughed — a low, dirty sound — and then her mouth was on me. No teasing. No warm-up. She took me deep, her throat opening, her tongue working the underside. I grabbed her wet hair and she moaned, vibrations running through my shaft.

“Shit, Camille…”

She pulled off with a wet pop, lips glistening. “Not yet. I want you inside me.”

I pulled her up and spun her around, bending her over the edge of the dock. Her ass met the rough wood, and she arched her back, reaching back to spread herself. Her bikini bottom was already pushed aside, her pussy slick and bare.

“Look at you,” I said, running my fingers through her wet slit. “So ready.”

“I’ve been ready since the parking lot,” she said, pushing back against my hand. “Stop talking. Fuck me.”

I didn’t need a second invitation. I lined up and slammed into her — one stroke, all the way. She cried out, a sharp French curse, and her walls clenched around me.

“Oh, putain… oui…”

I pulled out and thrust again, harder. The dock creaked under us. She was gripping the edge, knuckles white, her ass bouncing against my hips with every stroke.

“You like that?” I growled, grabbing her hip with one hand, tangled in her hair with the other.

“Oui, oui, don’t stop…”

I leaned over her, my chest against her back, my mouth at her ear. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me like you hate me,” she gasped. “Harder.”

I gave her harder. Each thrust drove her forward, her tits swinging free from the bikini top, her moans turning into ragged sobs of pleasure. The sound of our bodies slapping together echoed off the water.

“I’m going to come,” she whimpered. “Don’t you dare stop.”

I reached around and found her clit, swollen and hot. Two fingers, circling, pressing. She screamed — a raw, animal sound — and her whole body shook. Her pussy clamped down on me, milking my cock, and I buried myself to the hilt, coming inside her with a guttural groan.

She collapsed onto the dock, breathing hard, and I pulled her up against me. Her skin was slick with sweat, her hair a tangled mess. She turned her head and kissed me, slow and deep, tasting herself on my lips.

“That was…” she started.

“I know.”

She smiled, that wicked smile again. “The bedroom has a view of the lake too.”

I looked at the sun, low and orange over the water. “We have all night.”

“We have all weekend,” she corrected, taking my hand and pulling me toward the house. “And I haven’t even shown you what I can do with my legs.”

CATEGORIES: [French woman, Lake house, Fitness trainer, Just the two of us, Rough sex]