Monique - A First Class Stewardess

She was never home. Well, if you could call it "home." We all lived in an 8-floor high-rise, in rooms you could rent as a student. Each floor had four wings or long corridors, and each of those corridors had ten standard rooms and one large room, which had enough space to split into a bedroom and living room. Plus, a shared shower and toilet block and a shared kitchen.

Most of the renters were indeed students, but as the landlord had too many vacancies, I had the chance to rent a room there, even if I was already working and not studying anymore. The way I had my interiors set up was quite clear; I had a king-sized bed in it and almost no other space for any furniture but a big cabinet. So, if you would enter my room, you would see, compared to the room size, a massive mattress right there, in front of you. You can imagine that I only had female visitors, and only when they were in a certain "mood"... :-)

Most students would go home for the weekend, leaving on Friday afternoon, so eighty percent of the building would be empty, all of them returning on Sunday evening. Some stayed, having nowhere to go, or were working folks like me, not having the necessity to go home and beg for money and food. The female students who didn't go home were easy fuck targets those days. You simply made a mental note of who was still in the building and in what room they lived in. Then, buying some nice finger food and booze, you would simply knock on their door on Friday evening, surprising them with a great dinner.

Since the standard rooms were something like 9 sq. m (96 sq. f.), you would find most of the time a single bed, a desk with one chair, and a cabinet. So, joining a babe for a spontaneous dinner would mean sitting both on the bed. Once she was full, you could place the tablets or dishes on her desk and chill, listening to whatever music she would have, getting cozy together. Touching softly her hand, saying some nice words, caressing her back, pulling her closer, and saying that you like her a lot... And soon you would be kissing the chick. The rest was easy. Before she knew, she was getting stuffed again, but through a different hole.

That way, I would have like three loose relationships at the same time, normally one per weekend day, so I could keep track, meeting like once or twice a week, max. It was like dating a chick in a restaurant, perhaps getting pussy afterwards, but much cheaper and much more efficient, since you already had her sitting on her bed. The pussy score would be almost 100%. Only one time I had to stop seeing my newest fuck right after the first night; she only wanted to get fucked with the Springsteen album The River playing the entire goddamn night. Now the album is great, but I have my limits.

My working neighbor Monique was not at all like that. I knew she was a stewardess; we would sometimes say hi in the shared kitchen and chat a bit, and she was always nice to me, but I never focused on flirting with her. I still don't know why. Maybe because there was too much going on in my life right then, I just started a simple job in a supermarket, taking care of the fruits and vegetables, back home for less than two weeks after returning from California, and before I knew it, I was seeing a very sexy married customer, Aline, who seduced me.

Married Aline saw me, standing behind the fruits (I was still a trained beast from all that college basketball I played in CA), with my little supermarket apron on and muscles showing through my t-shirt, and she knew right away I was going to be her new fucktoy...

Back to Monique.

Maybe she felt unnoticed or neglected, because the subtle invitations she gave me every now and then, I missed them completely. So, Monique got bolder. Having a pain in the shoulders was the first one, and I could massage her. The problem was that she asked me right when I had to go to work, and at that time, income was more important than calling in sick for a day because I was paid for the hours I worked and did not have a standard contract. I apologized and promised her I would take care of her stressed muscles in the evening. She pouted, but I left anyway. That evening, as I knocked on her door, I saw a note hanging: "Have to work"...with a smiley. Was that **** or truth? I don't know.

Some weeks passed, and I didn't see her in that time. I was slowly appreciating life again back home, way different than in CA. Let alone the number of different kinds of bread! One evening, as I walked towards the common restrooms, passing the kitchen, I smelled a nice female perfume, but the kitchen was empty. I was almost 100% sure I smelled Monique!

What to do now? I could not simply barge in; she was too sophisticated for that. I needed a good approach. I had an idea; I bought a good bottle of red wine because I saw her once carrying one, asked the wine shop employee to wrap it nicely, and I put a note on it saying, "Helps against muscle pain." With a smiley. No sender name. She was not stupid. I placed the bottle in front of her room door and did nothing else. I simply went to my room, listening to music, loud enough you could hear it from the corridor but not too loud for me to miss any knocking on my door.

Nothing happened that evening. I went to the bathrooms, and the bottle was gone. Either she found it, or it was stolen. A lot of students living here were quite poor, you never know.

Remembering what she looked like, I could only explain it by saying she was like the 29-year-old version of that actress "Red Fox / Michelle H." Same dreamy look, red hair, but not too red, killer green-grey eyes, and you could see under her clothes the shape of a great body, and for sure her butt was great, wearing those tight jeans, showing her female attributes in a sexy way.

Another working day passed, got paid that Friday afternoon, and bought myself a nice dinner to celebrate the start of the weekend: steak, fries, a couple of beers, and pudding. Just before arriving at the building, the bloody paper bag of the supermarket ripped, and I had to carry all the stuff I bought in my arms, but it was no big deal. As soon as I entered the corridor where I lived, as I was passing Monique's door, it swung open, a smiling Monique saying, "Hi!"

"Hey Monique, I said, long time no..." leaving the sentence unfinished on purpose, smiling.

"See? Smell?" she asked, grinning.

"I know what you smell like!" I replied, smiling. That day "somebody" left a bottle for you at your door; I smelled your perfume in the kitchen.

"How can you be so sure?" Giving me a teasing look.

"You smell nice; that's why." I answered with a flirty look.

"Are you sure?" She asked and added, "I thought a man needed to make sure?"

"Yes, I do," and stepped closer to her, arms full of groceries. I put my face almost against her neck, very close, inhaling her scent. Oh yes, it was her.

"I was right; it was you that day." I confirmed, adding, "It is the same smell I would like to have in my room..." Teasing her.

She smiled, saying, "I was going to invite you for dinner, but I guess you already have dinner," looking at my groceries.

"Oh no," I replied, hiding it behind my back. "That is for my pet..." Grinning.

"How about you come have dinner with me in my room in, let's say, half an hour? I still have your wine..."

I smiled. "I am looking forward to it."

"Good," she replied.

I walked to my room, put everything in my little fridge, and went to shower and shave. I even shaved under my arms, trimmed the hairs of my cock and balls, and checked if there were any ears and nostril hairs. Yes, my fellow men, we need to do these things; babes dig this.

Good. All set. Got dressed and went to her room, softly knocking on the door.

"Come in."

"Hi Monique," I greeted her. "Brought you some pudding." Handing it over and grinning.

She had to laugh. "Much better than a bloody wine, if you ask me. Have a seat. Could you perhaps open the wine? Dinner is ready in about ten minutes."

"Sure. I quickly found the bottle opener, uncorked the wine, and let it breathe. Found in her cabinet two wine glasses and took them out, placing them on the table.

"Do you need any help?" I asked politely, knowing she didn't.

"No thanks, almost done here."

Monique was wearing a used-look, faded blue, long-arm shirt of some kind of thin fabric, with buttons in the front. The upper button was undone, showing quite a large decollete, both in depth and width. She wore no bra, and I could see her pointy nipples poking through the thin fabric. The shirt was loose around her waist but tight around her breasts, straining the fibers of the shirt.

Besides the very inviting shirt she wore, which was screaming "grab my titties!", matching its used look, she wore dark-blue, low-rise cut-off jeans, very tight around her butt, with several ripped spots. Once or twice, I could see, as she had to bend over a couple of times in the kitchen, that she was wearing a petrol-colored satin slip, but it was barely covering anything.

I looked around in her living room, and she had on one side a warm red, classical chaise longue (like a Roman lounge chair); standing next to it was a tall floor lamp with a thick wooden pole, and opposite this I was sitting on a two-seater couch in a modest color so that the chaise longue would be the centerpiece of the interior. Very nice. To my right I saw the bedroom door, and the four-poster bed had these long, white, semi-transparent drapes coming from the top of the bed. Sexy, I thought.

"Are you hungry?" She asked while I was distracted by her bed.

"Very," smiling and turning my head.

"Let's eat!" She smiled.

Well, she did prepare a man's meal. No fancy new cuisine or anything. Solid portions, so after eating this, you could work as a horse. Perhaps she soon wanted me to work as a horse. I thought, grinning.

"What are you grinning about?" she asked, smiling.

"Oh, just thinking that this great meal will give me a lot of energy," I replied innocently...

"Good to know," she said, giving me a look I could not quite place.

We chatted about all kinds of things, from how she copes with jet lag and how to have a social life when you are never there up to how I was getting used to living here again, from sunny CA to rainy Holland.

It was a great evening. Once we had cleaned all the dishes, she made coffee and brought us a bottle of liquor and small glasses. She sat on her Roman chair, and I was sitting opposite her. Maybe she was tired from jet lag, maybe not, but sometimes I had the feeling the liquor had a little effect on her, at least more than on me. But I was not sure. We talked on about all kinds of things, and slowly we landed on topics such as sex, relationships, men and women, dating, etc. She asked me all the typical woman's questions, like if I was single, what hobbies I have, and do I work out, while looking at my muscles.

One thing she did, without noticing, was hold with her small right hand the thick wooden pole of her floor lamp and unconsciously rub it up and down, as if she were jacking it off, with long and slow strokes. The pole did not fit into her hand completely, so the spectacle was very erotic. She didn't notice, or did it on purpose, but I got a rock-hard cock from watching this.

The problem I had was that my cutoff jeans shorts were getting uncomfortable since my hard cock was pointing downwards and putting quite a strain on it. I had to readjust. So, I lay my right hand on my shorts, covering it, and with my fingers, slowly pull it to one side, upwards. My cock was now halfway but pointing to the right, having the biggest strain possible on it, showing a big bulge.

While Monique was still rubbing the wooden pole up and down, she asked me, with again, a hard-to-place look in her eyes, "Need a hand?"

I smiled and stood up, walking up to her, stopping just in front. As I was standing, my bulge was at the same height as her face, within reach.

"You kept rubbing that wooden lamp pole, Monique, and look what you have done..." I whispered.

"I like rubbing it," she replied. "But only when I am alone."

"I am here now. Why don't you rub what I have to offer? It does not have the same length, but..." I said, smiling.

She let the pole go and leaned towards me, placing her small hand on my bulge.

"Very nice." She said, "Have you been hiding this from me?" Giving me a teasing look and grabbing my bulge this time. "How big does it get?"

"Four buttons will tell you..." I smiled.

She looked up and smiled, her hands quickly unbuttoning my jeans. She pulled them down and looked expectantly at the bulge under my jockey, her right hand caressing it up and down. She leaned in and gave the fabric over my bulge a soft kiss. After that, she grabbed my boxers on both sides at the waistband and pulled them down, leaving them with my jeans on my ankles, me still standing there.

"Come closer," she said.

I took two, three, very small steps, taking care not to fall by the clothes hanging around my ankles. While doing this, my cock bounced up and down, approaching her lips.

She gently kissed my balls first, cupping them with her small hand, weighing them, as if she were evaluating the amount of cum she would soon swallow. Her pussy got all excited by the mere thought. Can he cum twice tonight? she wondered. Wrong, she thought. I will make him cum twice, smiling.

She gave the cock's head a soft kiss, then dabbing with her tongue, through the small opening my foreskin allowed the slit of the big red mushroom head under it. Her right hand grabbed my shaft, so it couldn't go anywhere but inside her. With her left hand, she pulled my foreskin all the way back, producing a big glob of precum, which appeared on top of my cock's head.

"Mmmh, you are getting ready for me?" Monique asked, looking up, smiling.

Without waiting for my reply, she lowered her mouth on my cock's head and took the head completely in her soft mouth, sucking strongly at the same time.

"Mppphhh." She moaned with her full mouth as she took my cock deeper inside her.

My cock twitched inside her, from me seeing her red lips around my rod, those green-grey eyes keeping eye contact.

"Mmmmh." She moaned again, taking my cock even deeper, getting it halfway inside her. She switched to breathing through her nostrils, her mouth completely full of hard cock, the big cock head slowly sinking towards the back of her throat.

She had to swallow twice but was able to let the big mushroom pass her tongue, at the same time relaxing the back of the throat and getting rid of the gag reflex, soon allowing a much deeper penetration.

Monique then grabbed both my ass cheeks with her hands and set a slow in-and-out mouth-fucking rhythm, taking control of the depth and speed of her deep-throating. Bit by bit she took more of my big cock in. Adding lots of spit to make it easier for herself, she started drooling, her saliva flowing out of her mouth, ruining her mascara, and dripping from her chin onto her bare legs and on the floor.

"Good girl." I encouraged her, hoping she would take my entire cock inside her throat. Nothing like filling a pretty girl's stomach with cum loads.

She started vibrating her throat by humming, giving me along the entire shaft a devilish pleasure. "Damn, the bitch was good," I thought. If I let her keep doing this, I will cum for sure in that thirsty little throat. I wonder how many pilots she must have sucked off to have these kinds of skills.

She once told me that on certain long-distance destinations in Africa the crew would stay in little huts, serving as cabins. The return flight was always a week later, so the crew spent a lot of time frolicking their butts off. I was sure she had many weeks of blowjob practice from those flights. Nothing beats a slutty redhead being a spit roast!

Slowly her jaws started to get tired; my girth was simply too much. I gently put my hands on her hands, signaling to slowly get my cock out of that hardworking throat. Her cunt could take over now. As my cock plopped out, she gasped, taking a deep breath.

"Stand up, Monique." I told her, holding both her hands. As she stood in front of me, I quickly got rid of both my shoes with my feet and pulled off my pants and slip from my feet.

"Time to get married." I said, smiling at my new willing cunt, and lifted her, wrapping my arms around her back and behind her knees, carrying her to the bedroom as I laid her gently down on her back. I took off my t-shirt and threw it away. Kneeling besides her on the matrass, I grabbed those delicious tits straight through the fabric, kneading them roughly and pulling her nipples.

"Oooh," she could only moan, spreading her legs instinctively...

To be continued.