The Quickie

It has been wonderful to have been able to wear a bikini on holiday for the first time this year. I have been alone in the South of France for almost a week and it has been heaven to have been free of all constraints and able to be a true holiday girl.

I rented a two bed villa with a terrace and a small private pool. I have been able to wonder around, inside and outside, nude if it suited me, but usually wearing a bikini. The weather has been wall to wall sunshine every day and on this, my last day, I decided to top off my tan in my new St Tropez bikini.

My matching outfit is perfect. I put my hair up in a clip inside my wide brimmed floppy black straw hat which has a shocking pink band round the head. It is a perfect match to the bikini colour and to the matching high heeled mules I purchased as an ensemble. My Mac super pink lipstick is also a perfect match. My black Gucci handbag with a shocking pink scarf tied to its handle completes the outfit.

Although I say it myself, I think that the outfit, worn with my large gold sided Bulgari sun-glasses and my big gold earrings make me look very Tropezienne and chique.

I have been taking hormones now for 12 months and I am just beginning to be pleased with the result. My boobs are small but attractive and their large dark nipples are enjoyably sensitive when I touch them. My cock and balls have shrunk to about half their original size so that my super glue tuck gives me a smooth outline with an amusing vertical crease down the middle. When I wear my white ultra-tight stretch trousers, the seam digs into that crease and creates a wonderfully sexy camel toe effect. A number of men have given me admiring glances because of it and the cleavage I am now able to sport.

My tits are far from being big enough yet to fill out a sensible sized bra but if I add some of those boob enhancing “chicken fillet” inserts under my boobs I can fill a 36 C and show a reasonable décolletage.

I finished my make-up and put on my new gear. I stood in front of the long mirror to admire my new look. Not bad, I thought. You are quite fuckable and my tiny cockette agreed by trying to escape its bondage. I cupped my breasts and pinched my erect nipples through the bikini top. I was really turned on and needed a cock to sort me out as my soft pathetic winkle no longer worked in the way that it used to do.

I quickly found my suction cup dildo and stuck it to the middle of a dining chair which I placed in front of the mirror. I then slipped over the chair a pair of pants so that the dildo poked out of the flies and I could pretend it was a real man’s cock. I pulled my bikini thong to the side and sat down on the dong with a gasp as my “take-home” man is quite a big beast. Using all my creativity and imagination I could just about visualise that I was looking at a sexy girl milking a man’s cock and playing with her nipples while glamorously dressed for the beach.

My mangina has become trained over the years to produce its own lubrication so my juices began to flow as I stroked away and the fucking got better and better. However, I needed something more intense to get me over the top. I turned on the vibrator in the dildo and, immediately, the warm pleasure quickly rose to a crescendo with cum starting to ooze from my tightly secured cockette and continued until I was replete.

Understandably, when I rose from my substitute man I had shaky knees from the pleasure he had given me. I wiped myself and left him there to sleep in case I wanted his services later on.

I needed an after sex ciggy, so tottered out to the pool with my nail varnish and my ciggies. The bright red on my fingers and toes had to be changed to match the shocking pink of my outfit.

I lay back on the sunbed and enjoyed the rays while sexily inhaling the relaxing smoke and revelling in the rise and fall of my boobs. I loved to see the long white ciggy between my soft long fingers with their long red nails but the colour clashed with my outfit and needed to be changed. I had to get on with it.

Doing my right hand is the most difficult as I am right handed so I always do it first while my concentration is highest. However, I always complete my toes before doing my hands as they take the longest to dry and must be hard enough to prevent being marked by my shoes. I put rolled up tissue between my toes to ensure that they do not touch each other before the varnish is dry.

I finished my ciggy and put in the tissue. Then I began the long task ahead. When the toes were done, I lay in the sun for fifteen minutes to start the drying process before beginning the more exacting process with my finger nails.

Another fifteen minutes of sunshine followed before I put on the gloss top coat to all the nails. Another ciggy and sunbathing was then the order of the day to ensure that the nails were dry. They looked great and were a perfect match to the outfit. Unfortunately, however, I would need to remain still for at least another hour to allow the varnish to become really hard and I had to resist doing anything in the meantime. So, I read my book and lay half an hour on my front followed by half an hour on my back.

I then peeped under my bikini to see if the white areas under the fabric were showing visible next to the brown tan elsewhere. It looks so sexy when one is nude to have those amusing triangles and the thong shape showing prominently. It is very girlie and I was pleased that the patches were coming along nicely.

I touched up my lipstick and picked up my iPhone in its glamorous mirror gold and jewelled case to call my girlfriend Hazel to confirm my return the following day and the time she should collect me from the airport.

Now that I am almost a girl, I really want to be loved by men but Hazel is a wonderful lesbian sex partner and I would never want to be without her somewhere in my life. She knows how to make a girl feel special in bed and has taught me much about the joys of lesbian love. She was just starting to talk dirty to me about what we would be doing together on my first night back when the garden gate opened and François, the pool man, came in. Talk about cute! I was so distracted that I had to cut the call short as I was losing my concentration on what she was saying.

Francois is short, wiry but muscular and very Gallic and bronzed. He always smells of the Gitannes he smokes and the sweat from his efforts in the sun. He is a sort of rough diamond but with French charm, an eye for the girls and the patter that goes with it.

He collected his hose and pool suction cleaning device and came over to my side of the pool to plug it in.

His pigeon English is also quite charming and he never misses an opportunity to say something complimentary to me. However, today, he was even more outgoing, possibly because he knew it was coming to the end of my stay.

He crouched down beside me and touched the end of my nose with a slightly damp index finger and said, “You look even more beautiful than normal; quite like a French model on the promenade at Cannes. “ Thank you kind sir, I replied and ran my hand down his rippling chest muscles as I added “you are not so bad yourself even if you could do with a shave”.

I thought that I had him in my power. His cock had sprung to attention and was bulging in his modern tight shorts. It looked as if it was of a respectable size too. It mused that it would be a suitable climax to my sojourn if I were to have a bit of French rough to think about when I am back in cold England. Now that I was beginning to look like a real girl, I thought, why hold back, I might get away with it?

Francois was ahead of me though. He tried to pull me towards him and to kiss me but I managed to get my arms between us and pushed him away. “You are too smelly and your face is too rough to kiss me”, I said. However, he did not want to take no for an answer and grabbed my hands and threw them above my head, knocking my hat off as he did. “You’re all the same you English tarts”, he said, “You lead us on but think you are too good for us”. “Well, I am going to show you what a good French fucking feels like whether you like it or not!”

I would quite like to have a French fuck too, I thought, but I do not want to be raped nor run the risk of being discovered as being a man in the process. What might he find out if I were not to be in control of the situation, so I said, “Go and have a shower and a shave in my villa”? When you are clean and smooth, we will see what happens, you may be lucky”. He ignored me. Instead, he held both of my hands above my head with one of his hands, pushed me back onto the sun lounger and unzipped himself with the other. He was certainly stiff and had a good medium sized cut cock that I would have enjoyed sucking in different circumstances. Unfortunately, it seemed that this was not about to happen.

He thrust his cock at my tuck but could not find a way in. My thong was covering me up so he used his cock to push my thong aside and tried again. This time I had the time to tilt my pelvis upward so that his violent thrust hit my mangina and he slipped in with a gasp. “Sacre bleu” he said, “you are as tight as a virgin”. “This is going to be fucking wonderful”. “Take that you cow”, he said as he thrust deep into me recoiling and thrusting again. “Doesn’t it feel wonderful to have the magic of a French cock inside you”? “Squirm you little cunt and tell me how much you want my seed to impregnate you and give you a beautiful French baby”

They say that when rape in inevitable one should lay back and enjoy it but to do so requires one to have the potential of feeling something and I was feeling nothing even faintly stimulating. I was certainly pinned down by the full weight of his body and my hands were being held tightly so I could not escape. This should have made me feel dominated and controlled but I just felt numb and constrained. My mangina was getting a relentless full force pounding with his balls slapping at my arse cheeks on every in-thrust but he was missing my prostate so there was no sexual stimulus. I had to do something about that before he climaxed. I lifted my legs and wrapped them round his body so that the angle of attack improved. He must have thought that this was me yielding to the pleasure he was giving me so he held me even tighter and was spurred on to a greater fury of onslaught. His sap was certainly rising and that was a stimulus for me too. If only he could keep going for a few more minutes he might just take me over the top with him. I opened as wide as I could and returned his thrusts and gyrated my pelvis to increase the friction on my prostate. My juices started to flow and I began, for the first time, to enjoy myself. But, unfortunately, all was to no avail. To my dismay he let out that terminal cry, “I am cuming”, and his thrusts turned to jerks and convulsions and he shot his gourmet load of creamy French spunk deep inside me. It felt warm and was somewhat satisfying but I had not cum and I was not going to forgive him for that. Selfish French gigolo, I thought, I’ll get my own back!

“That was great” he said as he forced his cock in to my mouth so that I could lick him clean, “we must do it again”. “You have such a wonderfully tight pussy”. “I have never had such a great cum before. We need to do it again, lots of times”

I swallowed the last of the cum from his cock, stood up, composed myself and as I walked away into the safety of the house. As I went, I said defiantly, “You had better make love to men more often then!”

The end