Georges was making an elaborate production of stacking bread in the window when I opened the door of his shop. I arrived every morning at eight-thirty, regular as clockwork and Georges always made a point of waiting on me personally. His wife--Georges was married to the dark-haired woman who had been in the shop the first day I stumbled in looking for directions--wasn't in evidence this morning. She usually took up her post near his elbow, glaring at me malevolently. I had quickly learned to ignore her, much as Georges himself did. "Bonjour, Miles." Georges smiled happily when I entered the shop. "You are looking very well today." I had taken off my jacket on the way over, stopping just outside the shop to roll my shirtsleeves up to my biceps. He looked at me, a hunger in his eyes that no amount of bread could assuage. He was wearing the same sexy shirt that showed off his chest so well, causing the lump in my pants to tingle and throb, just as it always did when I looked at him.
"Morning, Georges. You're looking well yourself." I licked my lips and winked at him, only a heartbeat away from jumping him, right then and there.
"Come on into the back. I would like to show you where I work."
"Delighted." My stomach suddenly filled with fluttering butterflies as I considered the possibilities. This was a new twist! I didn't see his wife hovering around and my libido soared up into the danger zone. I followed him around the counter and through the door into the kitchen.
A layer of flour covered everything, giving it all a slightly ghostly look. The smell of baking bread permeated the air, almost, but not quite, overpowering the distinctive aroma of Georges himself.
"Where is Madame Derain?" I asked, trying to sound casual. I half expected to see her lurking in the huge flour bin near the back door.
"She is with the accountant this morning. She will be gone for several hours." This was very good news indeed. Georges stopped abruptly and I narrowly missed colliding with him. He turned and the next thing I knew, his arms wrapped around my waist and our tongues entwined in a passionate kiss. I put my hands on his broad chest, my fingers going instinctively for his succulent nipples. They were hard against the balls of my thumbs and judging by his shuddering response to my touch, very sensitive.
I finally broke our kiss, pushed Georges back against the edge of the large table in the center of the room and set about discovering just how sensitive they really were. He whimpered, tangling his fingers in my hair, holding my mouth right on target. I chewed the thick meaty point on his left pec till he was panting, then set about working over its twin.
He deftly unbuckled my belt and unzipped my fly. I did the same for him and pulled his work pants down around his knees. Georges was obviously raring to go. His fat prick jutted up out of the thatch of his pubes, stretching towards his navel. I forced his lean thighs apart and ran a tentative finger across his tight ass pucker. He whimpered and his bung throbbed invitingly.
I wanted his ass and I wanted it bad. I took a step back, flipped him around and helped him out of his pants. I got naked as well and knelt behind him, cupping his glorious buttocks in my hands. They were pale, smooth and firm as melons. I kissed both cheeks gently, then began tonguing the damp furrow between them. He leaned forward onto the table, his big hands pulling the two perfect globes wide apart.