The Frenchman's Bride

By: Imani King

1





Blaize Simon





Looking out over my sprawling estate from the rooftop terrace of my chateau, I felt like an underworld god smiling down on his own private Sodom and Gomorrah. My insane party guests provided endless entertainment with their drunken antics. They were five hundred of my closest “friends” in various stages of undress, enjoying the fucking shit out of seemingly every corner of my property, in every demented way possible. One could hardly call it a party, though. They were always fucking epic events!

And that is precisely the way the news media described them: “Depraved Epic Events”, to be exact. The release of each of my books and movies was always cause to celebrate in high style at my 200 year-old villa on the Seine. Located fifty miles outside Paris, there were no pesky neighbors to complain about the noise level. Did I say noise? That was an understatement. The bass vibrations of the techno dance music could be felt pulsating throughout all 69 rooms of the main house. The walls and floors thumped to the steady beat and the window glass shook in sync with the rhythm. I could barely hear myself think, but that didn’t matter. My ever-ready dick was doing all my thinking for me at the moment. The time had arrived for me to wade amongst the throng of hopefuls below and select the two or three lucky girls I deemed worthy for a private rooftop “meet and greet.”

As I mingled and snaked my way through the guests, I kept my eyes open for any and all girls who appeared to be “unusually adventurous”. My latest vampire novel inspired some of the partiers to come in costume. There were a number of luscious ladies slinking around in gothic-looking bat outfits, complete with brilliantly realistic fangs. Although I appreciated their creative enthusiasm, I noted the obvious possible problem for me in the cock-sucking department and decided to pass on the blood-curdling experience. One of them turned and clawed at the crotch of my trousers, digging into my family jewels with her three-inch black fingernails, and almost causing me to drop my drink.

“Hey what the fuck? Control yourself sweetheart! Don’t force me to spank you!”

Surveying the grounds of my mini-kingdom, I was utterly thrilled with the level of debauchery that was taking place in and around my swimming pool. My “peeps” appeared to be setting a new low in merrymaking: Premium booze flowed freely. As usual, my horny little guests were exchanging sexual favors in the dark shadows of the spooky purple and red outdoor lighting.

Out of nowhere, two water-filled condom balloons whizzed past my head in rapid succession and exploded onto the crowded patio. My attention was quickly diverted to the packed second-story balcony above, where a heavenly vision stood wearing nothing but a red satin Dracula cape. She slowly raised her arms over her head, paused for dramatic effect and then did a perfectly executed swan dive into the pool.

When she surfaced for air, I was able to catch a glimpse of her teeth and happily noted her lack of fangs. I decided that she would be a perfect candidate for the private rooftop rendezvous with yours truly and headed back toward the house to seek out others.

Once inside, I could instantly feel the entire house quaking with the music and dancing from the makeshift disco club on the second floor. Not surprisingly, my lavish kitchen was practically wall-to-wall people gorging themselves on the impressive array of delectable gourmet foods, rare French wines, and the most orgasmic desserts imaginable.

A petite little mademoiselle with long lavender hair sat perched high atop a barstool, and she immediately caught my eye. Her pink laced demi-bra was overflowing with young firm tits and her thong panties were practically screaming, “Oh Blaize, please rip me off with your teeth!”

I had apparently come in on the tail-end of a conversation I would have loved to have participated in, as she was now attempting to pinch a chocolate éclair off the dessert tray with her ass cheeks. I was completely astounded when she managed it. My cock hardened like a cement sidewalk. Fuck she was hot! She was also the lucky winner of spot number two for the rooftop threesome.

I immediately dialed my agent and longtime friend, Rolande Girard to give him the descriptions and locations of my two lovely choices. I knew he was enjoying himself somewhere amongst the multitude of other revelers, but the premises were just too large for me to search for him.

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