Seduced by His French Tutor…

*Loosely based on true events…*

Pete lay prostrate across the sofa. In the two weeks since Anna broke up with him, he’d had zero inclination to leave the house and little contact with friends and family. When he finally switched his phone back on a stream of missed calls and messages popped up on the screen.

Whilst scrolling through notifications, the phone began to vibrate in his hand. It was his French tutor, Camille, who’d messaged several times since he’d missed a lesson. Weirdly, one of the messages received was a selfie in which she was posing in gym-wear, covered in sweat and proffering a cheeky smile. It had been promptly followed by an apology for having sent it to the wrong person.

Camille’s body was incredible and Pete was surprised he’d never really looked at her in such a way before, dedicated as he had been to Anna. The errant selfie had been the only thing to have mustered Pete from his self-pitying stupor in days.

He resolved to answer the incoming call and get the awkward conversation out of the way, so he could get back to feeling sorry for himself,

“Hi Camille, I’m really sorry I missed my lesson the other day, I wasn’t feeling very well. I’m not sure I can continue our lessons, I’m so-”

Pete’s explanation was cut short by a gentle laugh from on the other end of the line,

“Nonsense Pete! Don’t be disillusioned! Don’t worry about this missed lesson. I was sorry not to see you, but tomorrow evening works for me. Shall we say 7pm?”

Before Pete could even formulate a response, Camille continued in her strong French accent, ‘great, I’ll see you then young man!”

With that the line went dead and Pete was left feeling a mix of vague annoyance, bemusement and admittedly, arousal. He threw the phone across to the other side of the sofa, his thoughts turning to Anna as he slid a hand down under the waistline of his boxers and began caressing a random erection. He took sips from a half empty bottle of wine on the bedside table as he went.

Throughout he and Anna’s relationship his jealousy had often been inverted into fantasies of his now ex sleeping with other men; gangbangs – sometimes with friends of his, her friends and colleagues, you name it. This anxiety come fantasy had only grown in intensity following the breakup, knowing Anna could be out any time, fucking some other guy.

He shivered in excitement imagining her being filled up by her two male flatmates in the bed he and she used to have sex in. After an extended masturbation session, climax drew him into a drunken slumber, his fantasies transposing themselves into the realm of the subconscious. He dreamt of different women that night, some of whom were real, others echoes of strangers he’d fleetingly crossed passed with in waking life.

The next morning he woke up to the sensation of his penis rock hard against his lower abdomen, before reaching for his phone and noticing a new message from Camille,

“See you tonight, Pete ;)”

He started to pleasure himself again, this time to Camille’s selfie. Questions arose in his mind; was the picture sent on purpose? Weren’t her messages getting a little flirty? He thought back to what, on reflection, felt like dozens of slightly inappropriate touches and comments over the course of their lessons – the way she would stand behind him as he wrote, almost touching the back of his neck with her body, sometimes placing an arm around his to point out a mistake he’d made whilst writing, her lips almost touching his ear or neck. He recalled lingering gazes the one time he arrived at a lesson straight from football training wearing shorts and a muscle-fit top accentuating his chest and muscular upper arms.

He’d always felt so embarrassed making mistakes as he spoke in French, he hadn’t had time to process what only now struck him as patently obvious. On reflection, he couldn’t believe this hadn’t clicked, especially given how often Camille had invited Pete to stick around after lessons. He recalled drunkenly confiding some of this to Anna one evening, leading her to put Pete under strict orders to never stay longer than necessary if he wished to continue taking lessons with Camille.

Now Anna was no longer in the picture perhaps Pete could get a better idea of what might have happened had he stuck around…

Camille lived a short walk from Pete’s place, seemingly alone. He had seen her out and about in local cafes, always charming, most often male, interlocutors. Unlike most women he knew of his own age, Camille wasn’t inclined toward what he termed ‘depressive chic,’ epitomised by the identikit fashion sense and dead-eyed stare of the twenty-something year old hipster. Instead, Camille always appeared vivacious, curious, fun.

Having pushed on the buzzer Pete stood outside the French woman’s flat listening for movements from inside. He felt a wave of nerves pulse through him, but before he could reflect on his mounting anxiety, the door flung open and he was presented with the sight of Camille’s beaming face,

“Peter! You came! I’m very happy to see you!”

Her still beautiful face and incredibly intense, dark eyes were a sight to behold as she beckoned the young man in and turned away to lead him into the flat. Pete’s own eyes fixed upon Camille’s derriere, her firm yet curvaceous buttocks bouncing as she walked ahead of him.

Rather than the office she usually held lessons in, Camille led Pete into dimly-lit lounge. There were candles dotted around the tastefully decorated room, which could be best described as ‘shabby chic’. Much of the furniture had seen better days, yet had obviously been lovingly preserved, including a single lamp straining to provide adequate light.

He wondered how he’d be able to write in such a dark room, before noting the absence of the usual notepads and textbooks teacher and student usually worked from. He wasn’t afforded much time to ponder this as Camille gestured at the small sofa they were stood by. She sat down next to him for a moment and gently rested a hand on his athletic thigh,

“I must admit something to you Pete,”

Pete felt blood rush to his face, unsure where this was going,

Camille dropped her voice to a whisper, “I’ve had one or two small glasses of wine,” at this she let out a laugh and rocked back slightly, removing her hand from Pete’s thigh, not before rubbing it slightly and offering a pat.

“Would you like a drink yourself? There’s nothing better to improve confidence speaking a second language than one or two glasses of wine. Especially French wine, of course” Camille exclaimed, with a wink.

Before Pete could answer, his tutor was reaching to pour out a glass. As she did so, Pete looked her up and down. She was a petite woman, slim and short, but curvy in the right places. She was wearing a fairly tight black dress and quite obviously no bra. The slightest movement on her part had a hypnotic effect on the young man as he witnessed her breasts jiggle around, with what seemed like a life of their own. Given their size and lack of support, he wondered whether they would remain in her dress. Now and then strands of her curling, thick black hair would settle on her chest, which she automatically thrust back over her shoulder, allowing a clearing the view to her cleavage once more.

The student guessed Camille was in her early 40s, yet it was hard to tell given her youthful demeanor and incredibly pert body. He tried to remain respectful and avoid gawking at his incredibly sexy tutor, but it was easier said than done.

She handed Pete a glass of red wine and sat herself to his side with her legs crossed, running her free hand through her hair,

“So tell me Pete, what’s up with you? You sounded pretty miserable when we were on the phone…and no need to carry on this pretence of illness, I saw you in the shops the other day and you looked fighting fit!”

Camille said this more in shared confidentiality than as a rebuke. The student felt embarrassed, until Camille offered a reassuring smile conveying no hard feelings or need to explain himself.

“Well…my girlfriend, ex girlfriend Anna, broke up with me a couple of weeks ago. So I’ve yeah, I’ve been feeling pretty shitty since then I suppose.”

Pete looked up and could have sworn he caught a brief flash of a smile quickly turn to a look of what could only be called feigned upset,

“Oh, my boy, what a poor thing! This Anna, she is crazy if I may say so! What a decision to dump such an intelligent, curious and dare I say…attractive young man!”

With the last words, Camille had leaned into Pete and squeezed his upper arm. As she did so he was treated to an even more revealing glimpse of her incredibly alluring cleavage. Her hardened nipples had become obvious through the thin material of her dress. It took great willpower for Pete to restrain himself from putting out a hand and pull the front of her dress down.

“But you know, these young women never know a good thing when they have it, always chasing the next interest. The one thing I have learnt in my middle years, yes I admit I am middle-aged, is the benefits that can come with fully dedicating oneself to pleasing a lover…”

As she spoke the tutor sidled up closer to Pete and continued rubbing his arm, before placing a hand on his knee. He was as nervous as he was aroused. On feeling the burgeoning erection in his boxers, he worried Camille would notice, given how close her fingertips were from the rapidly engorged head of his cock.

Before he could move in a way which would help hide himself, he looked up to witness Camille gazing down at his groin. She brought her gaze back up to meet his, smiled and bit her lip, before throwing her head back with mischievous laughter.

“You know at my age, it gets harder to compete with these younger women. These girls with their perky little tits and firm asses. I don’t know, I wonder how attractive I am anymore,” she said, as she stood up and looked in the mirror on the opposite wall, running her hands through her hair and down her sides.

Moments later, Pete watched in amazement as Camille started to pull up her dress up above her hips. She revealed her silky underwear and began swaying slightly with her eyes closed in a kind of mesmerising, wine-fuelled dance.

“I still want these young men, but do they want me anymore? What do you think Pete? What do you think of my body? How does it compare to Anna’s?”

With that she sat back down on the sofa with her legs open, pulling off her shoes and throwing them down on the floor.

“Do you like my tits Pete? Were your Anna’s tits better than mine?” She asked, slowly pulling her breasts out of her dress and running her fingers across the soft, olive coloured skin, before feeling around her erect nipples.

Pete sat agog as he watched Camille pull her underwear aside with one hand and lick her fingertips on the other, before gently running them up and down her pussy lips. She teased the entrance of her hole, before moving up to her clit. As convulsive waves crashed across her body with growing intensity, her moans became deeper and longer. Pete didn’t know what to do other than sit and watch as the beautiful woman before him writhed in ecstasy.

Without opening her eyes or changing position, Camille told Pete to take his trousers and underwear off.

“Take it all off for me, Pete. I want to see you play yourself as I play with myself.”

Following Camille’s command, Pete pulled his tight-fitting jeans down his muscular buttocks and legs revealing his now pulsing hard dick stood at attention.

“Woo, that’s it, that’s it! Cette salope Anna est un conne, non?” Camille exclaimed, applying more pressure as she rubbed her clit.

“J’ai envie de toi.”

Pete’s now sweaty face blushed, several strands of blonde hair sticking to his forehead. He felt increasingly cloistered in the small living room, the air thick with the combined heat of their bodies, still burning candles and the scent of their arousal. This and the effect of the wine caused his head to spin momentarily.

He started to pump his dick up and down at speed, before Camille stopped him,

“Non, non, pas comme ça, slow, nice and slow for me…”

He could barely contain himself and wanted nothing less than to move over to Camille and slide his throbbing cock inside her dripping wet pussy whilst running his hands all over her gorgeous tits. He began to scooch himself in her direction, only for Camille to extend a leg and place her foot against his chest,

“Ah ah, non monsieur, tu restes là pour moi un peu plus longtemps…”

With that Pete sat himself back against the arm of the sofa, took a swig of wine and relaxed back, moaning as he felt himself in his hand and watched Camille wriggle from her own touch.

“Ah yes, that’s it Pete, ouais, comme ça. Did you ever watch Anna do this?”

Pete hesitated, before answering no. It felt strange Anna’s name being mentioned again.

With that, he opened his eyes and watched as Camille slid her underwear down her legs. She opened herself up even wider, held her ankles and gave Pete a slight nod. He was like a ravenous animal, hastily lowering his body over her whilst grabbing the hair on the back of her head.

Camille leaned in to Pete’s ear and whispered, ‘Fuck me like you were fucking Anna – punish her for the hurt she’s caused,”

That was all Pete needed to hear. He lowered his strapping young body over his tutor’s petite frame and felt Camille’s dripping wet pussy open up around the head of his cock as he pushed his way inside her. She felt so tight around him, he was worried he might cum instantly. Her pussy gripped the length of his shaft causing them both to moan,

“That’s it, deeper, as deep as you can go.”

Pete pushed himself inside her as far as he could, as one hand supported his body weight and the other hungrily grabbed at her breasts before moving down her side to hold her waist. He began to quicken the pace of his thrusts and as he did so, felt his balls slapping against Camille’s perineum and backside. He moved his hands to the top of her head, taking hold of two fistfuls of her hair as he pounded away. He watched as her breasts bounced around and her eyes drew back.

The stultifying heat of the room had Pete dripping with sweat, but he increased the pace of his thrusts in and out of his tutor. As his sweat dripped onto Camille, she began opening her mouth to collect the droplets tumbling from his forehead. He leaned in closer and told her to lick the sweat from his forehead.

“You tell Anna what you want her to do, mon sauvage.”

He smiled before Camille placed one of his hands over her mouth and nose, fixing her gaze with his. After 30 seconds or more she began to gasp for air from under the palm of his hand,

“You want to breath?” He asked, in an almost taunting tone.

She nodded and Pete waited a couple of beats before releasing his hand and watched Camille gasp for air.

“Not too much,” he whispered, before lowering himself down against Camille’s face and nestling her into his chest and underarm, creating the same effect as he had with his hand. He could feel Camille get wetter as she writhed beneath him, her pussy beginning to convulse around his dick. She let out a sort of squeak from under his muscular frame, before she prodded him on his side and leading him to draw himself up so she could catch her breath. As he did, Camille was hit by an orgasmic wave, drenched in a mix of Pete’s sweat and her own, her hair stuck to her face, neck and shoulders.

Pete grabbed her hair at the front of her head as she came, her face, neck and chest now blotchy red as she came several times, increasing in intensity. She grabbed onto his impressive upper arms, digging her fingers into him under the intensity of her orgasms, before putting her hands behind his waist and grabbing hold of his muscular buttocks as he began to slow his thrusts.

“Come on! Punish Anna! Punish la pute!”

Pete didn’t need telling again, spitting on Camille’s breasts and using a hand to slather what had landed into the skin of her breasts, before lowering himself down slightly and lightly biting her neck and shoulders.

“Is that what you wanted to do to Anna?” Camille moaned.

Pete let out a grunt, putting a hand to Camille’s face and squeezing her cheeks together in the palm of his hand, a wild smile crossing her face as he started to fuck her harder again.

“That’s it, take the anger out on my pussy Pete, ”

Pete laughed, placing a firm hand around Camille’s neck. She was covered in so much sweat, he could barely maintain his old over her, instead feeling around on the ground for his jeans and took hold of his belt. He placed it around Camille’s slight neck, tightening it as much as he could short of choking her. He tempered his thrusts and pushed his dick as far inside her as it was possible for him to go as he planted his forehead against hers, neither tutor or pupil breaking eye contact as he slowly slid his cock in and out of her.

“Are you going to fill me up, Pete? S’il te plaît, je kiff ça…”
Pete felt the palm of Camille’s hand slap against his buttock, before she squeezed it as she spurred him on to cum inside her. He felt himself shudder as he was quickly approaching a point of no return. Camille felt him begin to tense,

“That’s it Pete, fill Anna up, just like you used to!”

With that Pete cried out in ecstasy as he released himself inside Camille. Her entire pussy tightened up around his cock as she came with him, grabbing the hair on the back of his head and biting his shoulder as she did, before letting out a scream. Both were covered in Pete’s sweat and having come he let himself drop down beside her, letting an arm rest across her torso.

After wiping Pete’s sweat from her blushed face, Camille ran her fingers down his chest and stomach,

“Very impressive start young man. We’ll continue working on this in our next lesson.”

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/b8wujb/seduced_by_his_french_tutor