{"loaderData":{"4":{"story":{"id":"dbc9b4df-17a0-41f3-abc9-518c57938b9a","seriesId":null,"seriesName":null,"currentUserId":"00000000-0000-0000-0000-000000000000","added":"2022-01-04T13:35:59.97Z","title":"Eva In The Bois - EXHIBITIONISM IN PARIS","slug":"eva-in-the-bois-exhibitionism-in-paris","shortId":"k7sYnPYy","authorNote":null,"disclaimer":null,"type":"Short","paidUrl":null,"synopsis":"F, M This story doesn't really fit most of the pre-publication categories offered. It's essentially about a female exhibitionist encountering an unconfident, youngish man. Catherine Millet's 2002 memoir, 'The Sexual Life of Catherine M.', was the inspiration but the story is original (i.e. mine). As well as exhibitionism and voyeurism, the story is about the complex dynamic of shared masturbation. There is, I think, a degree of power exchange in the scene.","partCount":1,"parts":[{"partId":"6ec0a5bb-10fa-4c1c-8aa5-e6250f191cfe","title":null,"summary":"Eva in the BoisEXHIBITIONISM IN PARIS\nI wrote this story in 2007 and posted it on Literotica as \njim","wordCount":1700,"readTime":9,"number":1,"state":"Published"}],"currentPart":1,"contentTitle":"Chapter 1","content":"

Eva in the Bois

EXHIBITIONISM IN PARIS

I wrote this story in 2007 and posted it on Literotica as \njimmyjoyce. It's quite a short piece, suggested by the eminent art \ncritic Catherine Millet's 2002 memoir, 'The Sexual Life of Catherine M.'

It is almost five o'clock on a Friday afternoon in late spring. Eva, \nhaving finished the day's work, scrupulously tidies her desk. Then she \ngets herself ready to leave. When everything is prepared, she slips her \nfeet into practical, flat-heeled shoes and puts on a white trench coat, \nbuttoning it carefully to the throat and tying the belt loosely at her \nwaist. Then she leaves her office.

She says goodbye to the matronly receptionist in the outer room.

\"I'm leaving now, Thérèse,\" she says.

\"Have a nice weekend\", says Thérèse, smiling.

\"And you too,\" says Eva.

As she walks through the corridors of the cramped publishing house, \nEva sees that most people have already left. She wishes those few who \nare still at their desks a good weekend as she passes them on her way \ndownstairs. Then she walks to the station and takes the metro to Porte \nMaillot.

The carriage is crowded, but she finds a seat. While the swaying, \nsqueaking train is passing through the black tunnels, she studies her \nreflection in the window glass. She sees a woman past thirty - not ugly \nbut not a beauty either. She thinks her eyes are set just a little too \nclosely together, and her nose is a bit too long. She has always thought\n this.

Her hair is black, cut in a short bob. Sensible. Not a style to attract attention.

She is, she thinks, unremarkable. She is happy about this.

Eva studies her reflection, musing, until the train arrives at her destination and she gets up to leave.

Up in the open air again, she walks across the wide, windy spaces of \nPorte Maillot to the corner gateway into the Bois de Boulogne. It is \nstill daylight, of course, and will be for some hours. The weather is \nmild but overcast – and the air is humid. She walks purposefully into \nthe Bois.

At first, there is a wide paved avenue between trees. She walks for \nperhaps a minute without seeing anybody, and then encounters a \nprostitute – probably one of the first to arrive this evening.

The prostitute is middle-aged and plump. She is wearing silver hot \npants that expose her broad, brown-stockinged thighs. Her belly \nprotrudes a little over the waistband of her pants.

The prostitute gives Eva a stare, and for a moment seems about to \ngreet her as a sister. Then understanding dawns in her eyes. She \ncontinues to stare, but does not speak as they pass.

Eva gives her a tiny nod in greeting. It is always good to have \nsomeone in the vicinity, and the prostitutes are very watchful of each \nother.

After another minute's walking, she comes to a side path. This path \nis narrow – only just wide enough for two people to pass each other \ncomfortably – and gravelled, not paved. The undergrowth is thicker here.

Eva does not hesitate. She has been here before.

A little way along, the path enters a clearing, and there is a rough \nconcrete bench set off to one side. The bench is stained and cracked, \nand somebody has scrawled unintelligible graffiti on one part of the \nback.

Eva sits down. She looks round and notices old cigarette packets and condoms in the grass.

She waits. She is quite calm.

She has to wait a long time, maybe fifteen minutes, before she hears the crunch of heavy feet coming along the gravelled path.

She looks up expectantly, and waits for the stranger to arrive.

It is a round-faced, youngish man - perhaps in his middle twenties. \nHe is a little overweight, and is wearing a dark suit, white shirt and \ntie. He has an attaché case clutched tightly under his arm, as if he \nfears someone will rob him.

As well he may. The Bois is a dangerous place.

Eva decides he's a young bourgeois – an office clerk, perhaps, or a \njunior government official – come to the Bois for furtive pleasures.

She is pleased that he has come.

The young man glances at her, and there is a moment of shocked \nrecognition in his eyes – but he is so nervous that he hurries past her \nand disappears into the trees on the farther side of the clearing.

She waits again, counting.

One, two, three ... A hundred, a hundred and one ...

And he reappears, looking white-faced and somehow bent. The attaché \ncase is now clutched in front of him, as if it were a shield.

Eva has already undone the buttons on her trench coat. Now it is only held together by the loosely knotted belt at her waist.

She releases the knot and the coat falls open. She opens it further, \nadjusting the folds carefully and shrugging it back a little from her \nshoulders so that it will not fall closed again. Beneath it, she is \ncompletely naked.

She parts her thighs to let him see her pussy and the sparse dark hair of her bush.

The man stops, transfixed, perhaps two metres from her. They regard \neach other silently. Eva remains calm; the man is trembling visibly.

He can do anything he wants to her. That is her contract with herself. But she thinks she knows what will happen here.

She hopes he will not speak. She likes to avoid the obligation to speak before any sexual act.

The young man puts the attaché case under his arm again – the right \narm. Then, awkwardly, he unzips his fly with his left hand. It takes a \nlong time. He can't quite get purchase on the tab with just one hand – \nbut he won't put the attaché case down on the ground to free the other.

Eva does not laugh. She looks on, calmly.

Finally, he gets the zip undone.

He will not meet her gaze. At first he simply stands there, head \nbowed and staring at the ground. Then he brings his penis out. It is \nsmall and semi-flaccid. The ragged foreskin covers the glans like a \nlamprey's pouting mouth.

There is a long moment of indecision. Then he begins to rub his penis\n quickly between finger and thumb. The end shakes up and down with the \nmovement. He is still looking down. She sees that his face is reddening,\n and that his neck also has a wide red flush across it, almost like a \nburn.

Eva reaches down and touches herself between her legs. She is already moist.

She is always moist, in fact. She woke up wet and she has been wet \nsince she masturbated in bed this morning. She hasn't touched herself \nsince then.

She coughs - and he looks up.

And now, when he is finally looking at her, her fingers part the \npetals of her cunt, to let him see the red darkness disappearing within.\n He takes a step closer. She catches his smell – sweat and fear.

His cock gradually engorges and swells. And when he is properly hard,\n it no longer seems small; it is simply there. The glans has emerged \nthrough the rolled-back mouth of the foreskin: an urgent, tight, pink \nacorn.

Uncertain, he looks into her eyes as if he is searching for approval.\n Eva's face doesn't change. Then, trembling and blushing, he begins to \nplay with himself in earnest – sliding his fingers back and forth on his\n shaft and brushing the underside of his glans with his fingertips. His \nthumb bumps the helmet at the top. She hears his excited breath – a \ndog-like panting in the clearing.

The attaché case is still wedged under his armpit. His torso and \nupper arm are rigid. This tension seems to exit through his curled hand \nas his fingers move compulsively back and forth along his sex.

He looks so awkward that he appears almost crippled.

The young man's face is set now and his eyes are staring. Abruptly, \nhe takes a half step towards her, then stops. A desperate contortion \nappears in his face. His mouth grins open – an involuntary rictus. She \nsees that he is about to come - that he is trying to hold it back. But \nhe can't. The spunk jets out downwards from his penis and spatters on \nthe gravel at his feet. It continues to fall for a long time – almost, \nshe thinks, as if he is pissing. He seems to be in pain. He must, she \nthinks, have had a lot of sperm saved up in his swollen balls. Perhaps \nhe has needed this all day – or for several days.

When the spunking stops, he stands there, his cock in his hand. Already, he is becoming limp again.

She gestures to him to come closer. He does so, obediently. When he \nis close enough, she leans forward suddenly and takes the limp, sticky \ncock in her mouth. He gasps.

Eva continues to masturbate with her right hand as she takes his cock\n between the fingers of her left and holds it steady. She continues to \nsuck and lick at the cock, even as the glans withdraws behind the \nforeskin. She cleans him scrupulously with her tongue as she rubs \nherself off.

And then she comes. She lets his cock fall from her mouth and she \narches backwards against the back of the bench. She doesn't make much \nsound – just the usual straining crepitation that always runs through \nher larynx at these times. She feels the fluid gush between her legs.

Then there is a silent, frozen moment. They are enclosed together in \ntheir private capsule of empty space. The young man stares. Eva looks \nback at him. They are naked and timeless. There is no pretence between \nthem.

The moment passes. Eva stands up and the young man steps back \nquickly. He seems about to speak, but she raises a finger to her sticky \nlips. Then, with a matter-of-fact, practical gesture, she closes the \ntrench coat around her and methodically does up all the buttons. \nFinally, she reties the belt and takes one last look at him.

He has put his penis away, and is struggling again to zip himself up \nwith his left hand. She does not help him. Instead, she turns and walks \noff down the path, swaying her hips a little. She does not look back to \nsee if he will follow.

","authorName":"wjimmy","authorUserId":"28aded17-d40c-4816-9e05-0d6422642d95","rating":4.2,"ratingCount":8,"reviewCount":0,"quoteCount":0,"storyCodes":["Moderate","Real Life","Exhibitionism","Humiliation","Voyeurism","Consensual"],"language":"English","readTime":9,"recommendations":[{"id":"e24a60f4-0d63-4d37-96c6-b9c6fbf3fb91","title":"Hey Nineteen (Part 1)","slug":"hey-nineteen-part-1","shortId":"fYjY2DFS","synopsis":"My nineteen birthday party was hosted by three Femdom mistresses with very different tastes. Unquestionably the best sexual night of my life!","rating":5},{"id":"2e006384-db7a-44ca-b688-e2bbc3dcad1d","title":"Sadist Attraction","slug":"sadist-attraction","shortId":"0PsxiOna","synopsis":"A certain presenter dreams of a dating show where people get naked. All resemblances to real people are purely accidental. the codes refer to what the contestants say that they will do.","rating":5},{"id":"fec18bb7-c0c0-4bba-a04e-e490a1464b58","title":"If You Were My Slave","slug":"if-you-were-my-slave","shortId":"pTQyw32V","synopsis":"This is not a story, but musings about what I would do to you if you were (un)lucky enough to be my slave. I'm really a very nice fellow...","rating":5}]}}},"actionData":null,"errors":null}