I am writing to tell you about an extraordinary encounter. It’s not a particularly happy story, but I wanted to tell you about it. I met Fouzia in an evening English class at the American Cultural Center in Paris. We were about ten students of all ages in the class. I am 35 years old, and I am a sales executive. My career is a bit stalled, I want to work internationally, but I am too weak in English. So, in my thirties, I decided to go back to school. Fouzia was just over 18 years old. She was very serious and diligent in class, and quite gifted. I had tried to approach her several times on the way out, but she always left in a hurry, as if she was expected elsewhere.
English classes were held twice a week, from 7 to 9 pm. The teacher was rather young, very nice, a bit of an airhead. One evening, I found myself, along with Fouzia, in front of a closed classroom. We went to ask the duty officer at the reception desk, who told us that the class had been cancelled today. Of course, the teacher had warned everyone but the two of us. I was leaving when Fouzia caught up with me: “Wait, I’m not being picked up until 9pm, do you want to talk for a while?” I had been waiting for this for a long time. We went to sit on steps between two floors, the center was rather deserted at this hour and little better understood Fouzia. She had …
… 19 years old and had five little brothers. Her parents had high hopes for her, they absolutely wanted her to go to a great school. So they paid her a lot of extra tuition, so that she would be the best. Besides that, she didn’t really have any leisure time. She helped her mother a lot, and she never went out with her friends to shop, let alone to a club. I could hear from her tone of voice that she really regretted it.
An hour had passed. I asked her what she did for her boyfriends. She laughed and answered with aplomb: “Are you kidding? I’ve never had one, my dad would kill me if I had one.” I told her she didn’t know what she was missing. That carnal love was a beautiful thing. We were starting to get tired, Fouzia had put her head on my shoulder, my hands did not come off my knees, but my eyes often went to the heavy chest that was completely hidden by a brown turtleneck sweater. She confided in me that she would never have the opportunity to experience orgasm, if the husband we imposed on her was impotent, or selfish. Our eyes met. His hand came to walk on my chest, then on my fly. Fouzia did not dare to look at me any more. I bandaged.
I wanted her very much. We didn’t talk, we went directly to the second floor toilets. They were closed. We went up to the third and last floor. This time the women’s room was open. In the narrow cabin, Fouzia pressed me against the wall and kissed me fiercely.
With a sigh, she told me that she had been practicing with one of her best friends. The touch of her hot little tongue inflamed me, I undressed her wildly and finally, I discovered that beautiful, proud, round, barely tanned breast, those thick nipples, that flat stomach. I reached down and found that Fouzia’s pubic area was completely hairless. My penis was tugging at me like crazy. I knelt down in front of her, who remained with her arms hanging down. She didn’t know, obviously, what to do… I stuck my nose in her slit. I smelled her for a long time, she had a flowery and strong smell. My fingers ventured on her little mount, and slowly, I spread her slit to discover her hooded rosebud. The tip of my lips kissed it. Then, while gently kneading her ass, I licked her up and down, all over her cute, chewy sex.
She asked me to penetrate her. It was not an easy thing in this place. I took off her skirt and pantyhose, her white panties, and made her put one foot on the edge of the cabinets. I unbuttoned my fly, she stared at my penis with a curious, if somewhat frightened, look. I whispered in her ear that I was going to enter as gently as possible, that I wasn’t going to hurt her. That seemed to relax her. Then I rubbed…
…my glans against her pussy and placed it at the entrance of her vagina. “Are you sure? Is this what you want?” She nodded, her lips pursed. So I went in. Deflowering a young woman is the best thing that can happen to a man, in my opinion. Inside, she was soft and warm, extremely tight. I moved very slowly, inch by inch. Every time my penis got a little deeper, I would make my pelvis make small circular motions to widen it, and then I would slowly push in again. His sheath seemed to clutch at my cock like a sodomy.
At one point, I gave a big push, and finally felt his pubic bone against mine. I was at the bottom. Fouzia made no sound. Her nails were digging lightly into my bare arms, I met her gaze again, it was soft, as if she was in a half-sleep. I kissed her neck, I licked her ear, then I began to pistol her, first gently, then more and more violently. In my arms, she more and more strong, with regularity, and my thumb slipped between our two bellies to go to masturbate her the clitoris. Her moans became continuous, and I felt her clench against me. She half choked on a high-pitched scream, and her vagina closed on my cock several times in a row. I quickly pulled out of her and dropped everything into the toilet.
We never had another opportunity other than that cancelled class. Except once. When we got to the door of the classroom, she slipped me, overexcited, before we entered: “There’s no one at my house tonight. Please come.” We didn’t go to class. That night, she did a striptease and a belly dance for me, she even did a little photo shoot, and we made love very tenderly. She wasn’t scared at all anymore, and it was almost even better than the first time. Unfortunately, I had to leave after an hour.
I was crazy about her. One day, in class, I asked her in a low voice if our relationship could evolve. She laughed self-pityingly and told me that if she had to choose between her family and me, she would do it quickly. That hurt a lot. I stopped going to school, got a good job, got a girlfriend. The story I’m telling you today is from less than a year ago, and as time goes by, I have only a wonderful and tender memory of it, no longer too painful. Thank you for reading me
