If you have read any of Weekend at Claire’s, then you will know that Lydia is not quite the pretty, demure PR girl that she seems. This story dates back a few years, to her sixth form days at an expensive girls school in the South West. One February, Lydia and her friends went on a ski trip to Courchevel. We join her in her hotel room…
With a towel wrapped around her slim frame, Lydia unzipped her suitcase and contemplated outfits. Her room-mate was in a similar predicament. The annual ski trip for Melksham Ladies’ College sixth formers was into its first evening. Naturally all that the moneyed young sophisticates really wanted was a night in Courchevel’s expensive clubs.
Lydia was determined that tonight would start the trip with a bang.
Lydia was sharing a room with Shobna, the eighteen year old daughter of an Indian steel magnate. Shobna was voluptuous, implausibly wealthy, and was regarded as being one of the most daring girls in their year. Naturally she had packed at least ten times more clothes than she needed.
Kneeling in front of a pile of clothing in her white underwear, Shobna’s boobs nearly spilled over the lace cups of her bra.
‘Are we thinking sexy, darling?’
‘We are indeed’ Lydia answered, holding up a hip hugging pair of lacy black knickers.
Shobna decided on a black and white dress that clung in all the right places. She preened in front the mirror, and watched Lydia drying her voluminous chestnut brown hair.
Lydia opted to go dark blue and sleeveless, a dress so short that it showed off the length of her tanned young limbs. Even bending forward a little revealed the swell of her firm buttocks. Touching her toes was positively indecent. Her expensive black bra came from Princess Tam Tam, providing her small breasts with a little extra assistance.
Both girls chose stiletto heels- Shobna’s impossibly high even by her over the top standards. Each pace caused her fleshy bum to wiggle hypnotically through her dress.
‘Gorgeous darling, gorgeous’, was Lydia’s opinion. Picking up her clutch bag, Lydia followed Shobna down to the lobby to meet their friends.
Half a dozen Melksham girls had chosen to join Lydia and Shobna for their night out in the posh ski resort. Each had gone to town on the makeup and dresses, the group was awash with dramatic eyeliner and over the top hairspray. Most had opted for indecently short skirts or dresses like Lydia’s. One girl, Pippa, was showing enough cleavage to lose an entire football team in.
The hotel concierge, a man not unaccustomed to gaggles of glammed-up schoolgirls, mentally filed away the display of firm, tanned young flesh for future private recall.
Lydia, Shobna and their friends stood by the bar, sipping at virulently coloured cocktails. Several men had already approached them- Lydia noted with glee that two of their number were already dancing with ruddy cheeked British men.
‘Bon soir. Anglaises?’ came a rich voice from over Lydia’s shoulder. It belonged to a tall handsome Frenchman, with a confident demeanor and an expensive looking suit. His dark hair was a little longer than Lydia would have preferred, but it framed a face that would not have disgraced a Gillette advert.
She turned. ‘Fuck fuck fuck’ said a voice inside her head. ‘He looks like a bloody model’. Tearing her eyes away from his chiselled jawline only distracted Lydia with the hint of dark hair emanating from below the top button of his white button down shirt.
The faintly amused look in his eye told Lydia that her interest pendik escort had been noted.
Lydia blushed, and sipped at her drink. Before she had quite come to terms with this vision of French masculinity, she had accepted his invitation to dance, and learned that his name was Pierre. He also mumbled something about Credit Suisse and banking.
Loud techno music filled the air as Lydia swayed and shimmied. Pierre pulled her closer, and moved in for a kiss. Tilting her face back, Lydia reciprocated, as his firm hands cupped her bum.
Pierre said something inaudible. Lydia bent her head forward. He repeated into her ear, ‘You like coke?’
Pierre took her by the hand and led her towards the back of the club. They passed Shobna on the dancefloor, who was energetically kissing a stocky man in an expensively cut suit.
The couple slipped quickly into the men’s bathroom- Lydia frowned, wrinkled her nose, and then noted that it was not only empty but also remarkably clean. It was even relatively well appointed, with thick white towels and sympathetic lighting.
‘This is why we come to the nice clubs, yes?’ Pierre grinned. ‘After you, ma cherie’, he gestured towards the end cubicle.
Pierre laid out a generous line of cocaine on the cistern, and handed Lydia a rolled up banknote. ‘Ladies first!’. Lydia obliged. Pierre took his turn.
Lydia giggled. ‘Come here.’
She pulled Pierre to her and pressed her lips against his once more. His hands once again cupped her bottom through her dress. She felt his fingers playing at the hem. ‘Go on’ she urged. Pierre lifted it higher, and ran his fingertrips across the intricate black lace of her knickers.
Lydia moaned into his mouth as he squeezed her bum. Her hips instinctively pressed back against him.
‘I want you to fuck me, you beautiful man’.
Pierre kissed her neck as his fingers continued to explore the more intimate reaches of the young Englishwoman’s body. They entered the lace waistband of her panties and cupped the furred mound of her pussy. Lydia felt herself dampening further, and in the confined space of the toilet cubicle fancied that she could almost smell her own cunt-scent.
Pierre’s fingers slipped inside her with ease, and she threw her head back. His mouth plundered the curve of her neck and throat as he toyed with her quim. He pumped his fingers into the wet flesh, making Lydia writhe.
And then, as quickly as they had entered, they withdrew.
Lydia groaned with frustration.
‘Oh you bastard’. Lydia stood before him, red faced, sweaty, knees weak and hair awry.
Pierre smirked. Then, with a swift movement, he yanked her knickers down around her ankles. He sat back on the toilet, unzipping his trousers and pulling them down along with his underwear. His thick cock sprang free, and he lazily stroked it.
‘Come here cherie’ he purred.
Even in her inebriated state, a thought occured to Lydia. ‘Condom, Mr.’ She handed him her purse, and he took from it a single foil packet. Without breaking eye contact, he rolled the sheath onto his cock.
Kicking one leg free from her panties, Lydia straddled him. Her dress rucked up around her slender waist, she lowered herself onto his cock. Pierre stayed still as her tight young cunt engulfed his proud member. She grunted with satisfaction as she took him to the hilt.
Lydia and Pierre kissed, with his prick inside her.
Without her lips leaving his, she began to rock back and forth on him, speeding up as he thrust in sympathy. Within maltepe escort seconds, Lydia was bouncing up and down on his cock with abandon, causing the seat of the toilet to rattle ominously.
It was at this point someone entered the restroom and noisily used a urinal. Had he seen through the cubicle door just feet from his back, he would have seen a memorable sight. An eighteen year old privately schooled English girl, grinding on the lap of a handsome French banker, with her expensive panties swinging from one ankle.
Lydia moaned and bucked, whimpering as his thick cock filled her young pussy. She came hard and fast, skin flushed. With a loud cry of ‘fuck’ she came again just seconds later. And then again.
Each time she felt the golden glow of orgasm fill her veins Lydia was barely satisfied. Her warm, firm young body cried out for more.
After her third vigorous orgasm, Pierre shifted his grip on her arse, allowing his middle finger to press against the dark pucker of her arse. By now she was beyond caring. Pierre’s finger popped into her eighteen year old bum, driving her onto even greater heights of pleasure.
Lydia ground against him harder as he fingered her back door, and came yet again, her face buried in his neck. Her entired body shook, from her head down to the tip of her stiletto clad feet. Her jerking foot inadvertently kicked her knickers under the cubicle divider. She didn’t notice.
Pierre was astounded by her wanton enthusiasm. He had picked up more than his fair share of foreign girls in this club before, but none quite as brazenly horny as this English rose. He knew that he couldn’t hold back much longer.
Pierre’s breath quickened, and his eyes began to take on an unfocused aspect as Lydia’s grinding hips began to take their toll. Sensing he was close she bucked and undulated on his lap. The tight space filled with the squelching sound of her juices.
‘Come in me Pierre’ she gasped into his ear.
With a deep guttural groan Pierre came, his condom-sheathed cock buried deep inside his young lover. His fingernails dug into the soft flesh of Lydia’s arse as he emptied the contents of his balls inside her. This twitching, juddering climax was enough to tip Lydia over the edge again.
Lydia collapsed astride Pierre.
The sated girl awkwardly stood up, still a little weak at the knees. She tugged down her dress to restore a semblance of decency, then kissed Pierre gently on the lips. He solicitously wiped away a stray helping of white powder from her top lip.
‘Now where have my knickers gone?’ Lydia asked, mock crossly.
‘I think you won’t much need them until tomorrow now’ Pierre grinned, kissing her lightly again.
‘You may be right. Come on then, let’s go somewhere a little more comfortable’.
Lydia stopped briefly in front the mirror, and tried to address her dishevelled state, without much success. Her hair was a tangled mess, her makeup smeared, and her discarded panties were now probably past redemption.
Hand in hand with Pierre, Lydia left the toilets, and headed to collect her coat. She noticed her Melksham compatriots on the dancefloor- some paired off, some still dancing increasingly provocatively with each other. There was no sign of Shobna.
Passing a luxurious leather couch, she saw Pippa aggressively kissing the man whose lap she was perched on. Her skirt had ridden up, and her pink thong was on full display. Evidently even the classiest French ski resorts were open minded about public displays kartal escort of lust.
Pierre and Lydia made their way along the winding street of Courchevel 1850 back to her hotel. This took longer than previously expected, despite the cold, as the couple kept stopping for quick snogging sessions up against any solid looking construction.
Giggling, Lydia managed to properly operate the hotel room door on the third attempt, and stumbled through still kissing Pierre. The drunk and high couple were confronted with a majestic sight.
Shobna was on all fours, moaning and swearing her pretty young head off. The man from the club was behind her, thrusting away with a look of intense concentration. Shobna’s dress was around her waist, and her dark brown breasts had completely fallen out of her bra. Her frilly white knickers were in a crumpled heap on the floor.
Her partner had a tight grip of her shiny black hair as he pounded her cunt, interspersing his thrusts with hard slaps of her wobbling bum cheeks. Her eyes were screwed shut in ecstacy, her smeared mascara leaving black marks down her cheeks.
‘Come on’ Lydia giggled, pulling Pierre towards the bathroom. ‘We’ll leave them to it’.
Pierre shut the bathroom door behind them, which barely muted Shobna’s cries. This extra aural stimulus suited the couple just fine.
As they kissed eagerly, Pierre unzipped Lydia’s dress and slid it from her shoulders, allowing it to pool around her feet. She stepped elegantly out of it, and stood before him nude but for her pricey brassiere and heels. This was his first sight of her firm young breasts- he could make out the outline of her hard nipples through the soft black material.
Pierre spun Lydia round. Understanding instantly, she gripped the edge of the bathroom counter, thrusting her bum towards him. He kicked off his trousers and pants, and guided his hard length inside her pussy.
Lydia took his cock with ease, still wet from their exertions. The couple’s excitement was heightened by the huge wall mounted mirror, which allowed them a full view of their saucy bathroom congress.
As he rutted Lydia eagerly from behind, Pierre cupped her boobs through her bra, the lace material rasping across her unbearably tender nipples. She squeaked and moaned as his cock explored her. Her messy hair fell across her face, sweat plastering it to her forehead. The close up reflection of her debauched state only increased Lydia’s arousal.
Pierre drove Lydia to another shuddering climax, growling encouragement into her ear. By this time she was so horny that the lack of a condom was far from her mind. Pierre enjoyed the sensuous grip of her tight, sopping wet young cunt.
This added sensitivity meant that he was never going to last the way he had in the club toilets. With his hands gripping her perfectly palm sized boobs Pierre fucked Lydia hard and fast. He whispered ‘Cherie, I’m fucking close’.
Pierre withdrew his cock and pressed it along the crease of Lydia’s bum as he came, shooting what seemed to be endless streams of hot white come onto the small of her back. It trickled back down over her tanned round rump, bracketing the twitching dark purple head of his cock. As he grunted his pleasure into her ear, Lydia purred contentedly.
He solicitously wiped her clean with toilet roll, and then suggested a shared shower. Lydia unclipped her bra, biting her lower lip pensively.
‘Help me with my shoes first’ she said girlishly, perching her bum on the kitchen counter. As he knelt and removed her stilettoes, first the left, then the right, Pierre looked up at her small, pert boobs appreciatively. His thoughts turned to another round of sex.
And it was then that Lydia made her naughtiest suggestion yet.
‘Come on. Let’s see if Shobna is still going…’