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This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental. ONCE A VIXEN First edition. January 13, 2014. Copyright Š 2014 Niki Hale. Written by Niki Hale. ***

When I was little, like every other girl, I had the Prince Charming fairy tale ideal of what a relationship should be like. Drummed into you as a kid with cartoons, books and movies, it is a wonder any girl ever grows up sane at all. By high school everyone starts to realize that it was all just propaganda, but we girls hold on to the tiniest bit of hope that it could be true. I was one of the more fortunate ones in high school. By 14 I had developed rather perfect large breasts with big puffy nipples that I learned (a little too young) made boys crazy. I had silky, long, dark brown hair that set off my blue eyes and made them look like Lapis Lazuli in the right light. Having just a hint of dark in my skin tone, some long dead relative having been half Cherokee, made the look all the more exotic. But I was as true blue California as any girl could be. My parents had made gazillions from designing some kind of revolutionary tobacco substitute, and so besides being a bit spoiled, they treated me like gold. Throughout high school boys chased me and I dabbled, like any horny young girl. I gave a few guys blow-jobs or hand-jobs at parties or dances. I dated a few different guys ranging from stoners in rock bands to school athletes but I never got a ‘slut’ reputation because I actually stayed a virgin until I was 18. Then college changed everything. The prince charming that had long since faded from my memory appeared to me in my first year of university. He was tall and fit and devastatingly handsome. He had a smile that could melt glaciers and eyes that would make superman’s x-ray vision look like a pocket lighter. And he fell for me. I considered myself pretty, beautiful even, but this man was stunning. I fell head over heals in love. I gave myself to him sexually, gladly offering my virginity. He was patient, kind and caring. Step by step he taught me about pleasure, doing things to me and showing me different positions until I completely turned into not only his girlfriend, but his totally willing and horny fuck slut. I loved it. I lost my anal cherry to him also, I learned to adore the taste of his sperm and how to get his cock all the way down my throat. After 2 years of being together, he introduced me to the idea of possibly having a threesome with another guy. It would be fun he said, and it was just sex, not emotion. I was so into him, I relented, just wanting to give him pleasure. In reality, I enjoyed it immensely, partly because it turned him on but mainly because I had become so enthusiastic about sex in general. And I was good at it. He had taught me well, how to give pleasure and how to enjoy it. We didn’t do the threesome thing often, but often enough that I experienced double penetration, double oral and the feeling of 2 guys cumming all over me. The truth is, I would have done anything for him, anything he asked. I was madly in love. I could foresee a marriage at some point soon, amazing holidays together, A lovely house somewhere and eventually a couple of kids opening Christmas presents by the tree. The little princess that I had always been had found her prince charming, against all odds. The fact is though, that I should have listened. I should have paid attention to the fact that it was all just a fairy tale. I should have paid heed to some of the subtle clues that flew right by me. I really should have known. I came back early from being home in California for Christmas holidays and found him in bed with two trashy girls. He insisted that it was just the once, but further investigation made it clear that it had been going on since about our second month together. Almost three and a half years. I was devastated, the walls of my life came crashing down. I finished school, begged my parents for spending money and took off for Europe for the summer. While traveling around forgetting him I heard that he was arrested for having sex with an underage girl. It was consensual but it still got him four years, the fucker. Also as I was traveling my parents died in a car crash leaving me a fortune but leaving me an orphan also. I still blame him for it. I would have been at home had he not fucked my mind so completely. **** I returned for my parents funeral and stayed just long enough to get all the paperwork in order. There was mountains of it, and the lawyer said that if I didn’t plan on living in the house I should sell it. What did he know, he didn’t grow up there. He was probably 27, with rakish long blond hair

and a tan. He looked more like a surfer than a lawyer. I had to go to his office time after time until I got so bored of it I demanded he come to me. “I am sure you are making a huge cut out of all of this financial mayhem, I think you best just come to me when you need another signature.” I told him over the phone one day when he asked me to drive yet again into Century City. “It’s not appropriate” he responded, what ever the hell that meant. “Appropriate or not, come here or forget it.” He showed up the next day and was suddenly standing by the pool. He startled me. He must have rung the bell but walked around back when there was no answer. I had been laying topless in the sun with just a tiny bikini bottom on. “Ahem” he started, with the fake throat clearing “ Miss Anderson...Jazlyn...” I turned around and stood up, my pert 34C breasts staring right at him. He motioned a little to look away, but not very well. “Hi Tom” I said completely casually, I didn’t care at all that I was topless. The sun had been shining hard on the patch of bikini between my slightly open legs and I was warm there, incredibly horny. I had only thought just moments before he arrived about a little masturbation session. Wouldn’t that have been a show. “Something else to sign Tom? Or did you just come to see my pretty tits” That made him squirm a bit. I don’t think he liked me calling him by his first name, it made him feel less lawyerly. “I...umm...uhh, yeah you need to just finalize some stuff before the sale of the house.” He was a little unnerved by me standing there almost naked Without even thinking, I reached up and pinched one of my nipples. His mouth dropped open a little. I was soon to be officially homeless but very rich and all I was thinking about was getting laid. “I think you should either close your mouth or wrap it around this nipple.” Pretty direct I know, but I was horny. I had not had sex for almost 6 months since the disaster of my stupid ex-boyfriend. I had plenty of chances in Europe, but it had still hurt too much. Now the pain was gone, replaced only by a kind of greed. Sex greed. “I am not...I’m not” he was at a loss for word but I could physically see him getting hard in his pants “Not what Tom? Fuck, say it? Not what” I said hoping to god he wasn’t going to say ‘attracted to you’. “I am not sure that’s appropriate” he said, and I giggled at the absurdity of it. “Oh?” I said, and pulled my bikini bottoms down to my ankles “How about this?” His cock then swelled straining at the fabric. “Oh, you like that do you? Then lick it” I was feeling all at once a sense of power over this guy that had hassled me non-stop about legal shit for ages. I pushed the bikini bottoms down and with one hand spread my lips open. “Make me cum, I’ll sign your papers. Oh...and I might even make you cum too.” He was on his knees so quickly he nearly knocked me into the pool. My pussy lips were swollen and wet and he latched onto them like a baby suckling. “Whoa Tom, slow down,” I said but I grabbed his head and shoved it between my legs. I let him work his tongue on me and lifted up one leg and put it on his back. As I started to cum suddenly, my balance became precarious. The orgasm that I had in my lawyer Tom’s face that moment abruptly set me free somehow. I had been living in the misery of the asshole that destroyed my feelings. Now I only wanted pleasure. I disengaged my pussy from his face. “Get your pants off and lay down” I demanded. I really wanted to get fucked. He did exactly as he was told and then started fumbling with his tie. “Leave it on, lay down.” I said He looked a little ridiculous laying there by my pool with no pants yet still with a shirt and tie but I didn’t care. Besides, he had an epic cock that was pointing right upwards. It wasn’t huge in

length, but it certainly was very fat. I stood above him, one foot on either side and squatted down above him. I grabbed his throbbing shaft and guided it in to my warm wet hole “Fuuuuuck” moaned Tom as it went in. I began to ride him with abandon, using his fat cock like a forbidden sex toy. I used one hand to steady myself and one to furiously rub my clit. My orgasms started coming fast and hard. I wanted to kneel, my legs were getting shaky, but I knew that the concrete of the poolside would destroy my knees. I could hardly take it anymore. “I am gonna cum...” he suddenly blurted out and I was relieved as I was getting a cramp in my leg. I stood up, rather suddenly, leaving his cock jerking and dribbling cum out of the tip. “What the hell? Why?” He couldn’t believe I just stopped at that moment. He grabbed a hold of his shaft and with 5 or 6 hard pumping motions brought his climax to a finish. Gooey white ropes of semen covered his shirt and tie. “Why did you do that? You little tease, what the hell?” I looked straight at him, picked up my bikini bottoms and slipped them on. “It wouldn’t do that you came and forced sex on a grieving client, now would it?” I said, all serious. My legs though were still spasming from the orgasms. “You little...slut” he said and then I got mad. “That’s, how do you say it Tom, inappropriate. I suggest you get all this legal crap done soon. I want to get out of L.A.” He cleaned up as best he could, but there was still cum stains all over him. He beat a hasty retreat and I never actually even saw him again after that. The good news though, was that another lawyer from the firm (this one old enough to be my grandfather) came by 3 days later with all the completed paper work. I was 21, I was stinking rich and I was about to leave L.A. forever. **** I landed in Paris on a public holiday. It was all so foreign to me and I barely spoke a word of French. Nothing seemed to be open or working. It didn’t matter. I had always wanted to go there since I was a little girl. When I was quite young my parents traveled with me quite a bit. But as I got older, they got more busy, and even though they were making lot’s of money they rarely seemed to have a lot of free time. I was going to make up for that. I had nothing but free time. I checked into a hotel in Montmartre, because it was the coolest neighborhood in the city and where all the nightlife and cabarets were. I was rather intent on flaunting my new found freedom.I spent a few days getting acquainted with the area. I had my hair done at a salon that was probably way over priced, bought new lingerie on the Champs Elysee’s and drank little espressos at cafes in the sunshine. I attracted the attentions of many French boys and travelers. I would often sit in the little cafe just below my hotel in a tiny little skirt, making sure that the lace tops of my stockings would be visible to any boy that passed me by. I even got some looks from pretty French girls. It piqued my interest slightly, and I decided that someday I would maybe explore that option. About a week after my arrival I was sitting in a small park in the Ile De La Cite right across from Notre Dame and it started to suddenly rain very hard. There was no warning, the day had been sunny and warm and I had no umbrella with me. I scrambled like a mad woman looking for shelter, my white top getting soaked clear through, making my nipples cold and hard enough to show through the wet fabric. I stood under a small overhang of a repair shed in the park. Suddenly there was a tall guy standing next to me that looked like he worked in the park. He was wearing overalls and a little cap and had a rake in his hand. He looked about 25 and was handsome in a rugged sort of workman way. He was dripping wet too. “Vous semblez tout mouillé” he said to me and I stared at him blankly. “I am sorry, I don’t speak French” I said, feeling just a little lame for not having paid attention in French class at school “Oh Mademoiselle, is ok... I speak some English. You seem, how do you say, so very wet.” I looked down at myself. My big brown nipples were sticking through the fabric like pebbles. I was wet, that was for sure, and suddenly cold too.

“Would you like to go out of the rain?” he asked me, producing a key to the shed where I was jamming myself under the eves to get out of the rain. He opened the door and turned on a light. The inside was small, about 10 feet across and 6 feet wide. There was gardening equipment, a small desk with a coffee machine and a phone and a little area with a locker and small sink. This was what would be called his office. He lead me in and offered me the chair at the desk. He asked if I wanted coffee and pulled off his soaking wet shirt as he opened the locker. I declined the coffee, but accepted the towel that he handed me. “Are you new to Paris?” he asked, absentmindedly undressing in front of me. He was pulling off his pants to change into dry ones, but had a pair of boxers under his overalls. He didn’t even really look at me. He had a nice body and I suddenly felt quite horny watching this man undress in front of me. “I see you are excited, your breasts they tell me” He didn’t even look up when he said it. It surprised me because I had just felt myself get wet watching him. It was at that moment I noticed the ring on his finger. He was married. What a dirty fucker, I thought. In one swift movement I pulled open my blouse, the little metal snaps making enough sound to draw his attention and make him look up. My tits were there in full view, looking glorious. They were capped with rock hard brown nipples, aching for attention. “Mademoiselle, I...” he stuttered a little, looking for words. “I was not trying to...” He was just flirting harmlessly, but he was nearly naked and he had started it. I parted my legs, leaving a wide gap where he could see the tops of my stockings. I watched his eyes follow up the lines of my legs to the little yellow satin panties I had on under my skirt, I was sure that there would be a wet patch there. “I bet you want to fuck me” I said, thinking to myself that this was not how I planned my first French encounter. “I am married Mademoiselle” he said, but I could already see his cock getting hard through his boxers. “And when did that ever stop anyone?” I said parting my legs wider revealing everything. He hesitated for just a second and then pulled his shorts down. I knew I could have him if I wanted. He had a big veiny uncircumcised cock. The head was just peaking out from the tip. He walked over to me, unsure if this was just some fantasy that he might be imagining, I took his cock in my hand and put it to my lips. In the same instant I looked up at him with my piercing blue eyes. “I want to be fucked hard” I said, licking the tip of his cock between every word. Then I put as much of it as I could in my mouth. I was amazed at the feeling of it growing harder. I didn’t so much as give him a blow-job as just push it far into my throat and held it there. In 30 seconds, he was as stiff as a broom handle. I gently pushed him back, stood up and turned around. Then I pulled my skirt up and my panties down to my ankles. a sudden thought of how my new shoes would be ruined from the rain crossed my mind, but I just kicked them off, and my panties with them. Then I bent over the desk, knocking some things all over the floor, reached back and grabbed my ass cheeks and spread them wide “Fuck me” I said, in a very matter of fact way. I didn’t have to wait long. He pushed himself inside of me and grabbed hold of my hips. “Slowly” I said, wanting it to last for a bit. He took his time, drawing his shaft in and out. At times he would withdraw completely, only to ram it back in again. My pleasure started to build and I reached forward and grabbed the edges of the desk. “Fuck me hard now” I practically demanded. He started thrusting into me then, his balls slapping against my clit with every stroke. The sound it made filled the little room. Sploosh, slap, sploosh slap. I was dripping from this crazy stranger fuck. I was on the verge of a massive orgasm when I heard his breathing increase. The tell tale sign that he was going to cum. I pushed back hard, not wanting to miss out on my own climax. In an instant, his warm goo was filling me, I felt it dripping out a little and down my leg. He was

panting and saying something in French. I started to cum wildly, the dirtiness of the moment taking hold. I reached back trying to grab his ass and push him in to me. After a moment, we both slowed down, our orgasms finished, our energy spent. He pulled his cock out of me letting out a slightly satisfying pop noise and I felt semen dribble down my leg. I stood up, walked over to where his boxers lay on the floor and I picked them up and wiped up his sperm from my pussy. I imagined his wife looking at his cum stained pants. Then I tossed them to him, “A souvenir” I said, smiling I went to pick up my panties and shoes, The panties were dirty and I wasn’t going to put them on. They had ended up in a pile of dust. I just left them there on the floor. My shoes didn’t quite feel right anymore, damaged by the rain. “You are like a dream Mademoiselle, you must come visit me again, my name is..” I held up my finger to his lips. “I don’t want your name, and no you will not see me again. And you should not cheat on your wife, you dirty little slut. The rain had tapered off, I could hear it on the roof of the little shack. I snapped up my blouse, leaving way to much cleavage exposed, grabbed his little umbrella by the locker and simply walked out. “Wait, come back...” he was calling me from the doorway. He couldn’t come after me, he was still standing with cum stained boxers in his hand and a semi erect cock. I went straight to the metro and disappeared down the stairs. That evening, I masturbated in plain sight with my hotel window open. I knew for sure that one guy and a few couples witnessed it. I was just reliving my fantasy nameless fuck. I would have to leave Paris in the morning, but this was just starting to get fun. **** I checked out of my hotel early the next day and spent the next six weeks traveling across France and Germany. When I felt like it, I would bed down a cute guy. The majority of the time I would go for younger ones. They were the easiest. While I stayed in nice hotels and ate at good restaurants, when I wanted sex I would go to either a local bar or even better to the travelers haunts. I could find a guy I liked in seconds, and seduce him with ease. A few times I fucked older businessmen that I met at my hotel. I always would go to their room, never to mine. I wasn’t about to let any of these guys get attached to me. They were easy, and like puppy dogs, always asking when they could see me again. I simply blew them off, having gotten what I needed. If I ever felt the slightest bit lonely, I would make friends with a woman traveler, but that little sensation that I wanted to try girls kept licking at me In the beginning, I would never let a guy tell me his name. I simply didn’t want to know. But then one night some business executive from Canada was adamant that we know each others name. “I am Linda” I said, making up something so he would be happy. “See, that wasn’t so hard” he said “I’m David.” Maybe he made his up too, I’ll never know, but what he had no idea of was that my ex was called David too. I no longer wanted to just fuck him. I wanted to make him hurt. I went to his room and told him I wanted to tie him down. I used some old silk scarves I had. I didn’t tie him too tightly but he thought it was fun and kinky. I rode him like a banshee, digging my nails into him occasionally to leave marks just in case he had a girlfriend somewhere. I came all over his cock and then would squat over his face, making him lick up my juices. Then as he was just about to cum. I stood up, got dressed and left. He kept shouting at me as I went out and I am sure he got himself untied eventually (I hope) but just to be sure I checked out of my hotel and took a night train to Italy. When I got to Venice I fell absolutely in love with the city. I decided to rent a flat there and stay on until at least my birthday. The city was magic. The men were cute, well dressed and for the most part polite. I settled in nicely and started to fuck my way through the prettiest guys in the club scene. It was all my pleasure. The Italian boys were the worst though for wanting me to be their

girlfriend after just one fuck. Hopeless romantics without a clue who I was. **** One hot summer night just before my birthday I was standing at the bar in a lush club just outside of the city and a beautiful elegant woman approached me. She was probably 35. She had the blackest silky hair and was wearing a tight fitting dress that accentuated a very sexy yet curvy figure. “You are that American girl, aren’t you” she said with just a trace of accent. She made it sound alluring and sexy. I looked at her wondering who the hell she was. “I’m Francesca” she said holding out an elegant hand “You are the heart-breaker, everyone is talking about you.” I had no idea that I had a reputation. I didn’t even know that anyone noticed. True, a couple of guys followed me around like lost puppy’s but I always just told them to go away after I had finished with them “Heart-breaker?” I said, laughing a little, the thought was preposterous. “I am guessing that someone broke your heart then... first boyfriend?” I was a little annoyed that this woman that I had just met was reading into me like a book. But at the same time she fascinated me. “I’m Jazlyn” I said “I guess yes, that’s true, but I am not a heart-breaker.” “All the boys you have left behind in Venice think so Jazlyn” She tilted her head back slightly and laughed. This woman was pure charm. “I understand, trust me” she said and I saw just the slightest look of sadness in her eye. But in a blink it was gone. “Tonight we work together, I have the perfect man for us” She smiled again and I was lost in her radiance. I never considered myself at all bi-sexual, though I had been curious. But I wanted to touch this woman. We had a few drinks together and she told a very sketchy rough outline of how she had been very madly in love and the guy, now a politician in Rome, had practically left her at the alter and took off with her best friend. She told me I should slow down, relax and get to know myself better. She told me that I should have a place to call home, at least temporarily. It would center me, she said and make me a happier person. When I told her that I in fact did ‘live’ in Venice for the moment, she shook her head and said that it was not the place for me. Later in the evening she introduced me to Giovanni. He was only a little taller than me, but if you could put how gorgeous he was in a package and sell it, you would make a million. He had curly brown hair and he must have been 40, but he looked about 30. Francesca said he had an important government position. We took turns flirting with him. I took my cues from Francesca. She knew all the moves to make a man do what she wanted. At around midnight Francesca took my hands and kissed me suddenly and without warning. I was completely surprised but after I saw the look on Giovanni’s face I understood why she did it. “We must go darling” she said loud enough for him to hear. “Wait no, you must stay, I insist” Giovanni protested. “We live very far” she said, slipping a hand around me and actually grabbing my ass. It made me wet, I will admit. “Unless you have a place we can stay here” she continued. “I, yes... I have a penthouse suite at the Marquis” he said, and that was all she needed. “Let’s go then” and she reached out her hand and took his, gently tugging him along so he would take us there. The room was lush, with gold trim everywhere and big drapes. It had two separate bedrooms and a reception area. Giovanni ordered champagne from room service. Before it even arrived, Francesca was undressing him. “Tonight you get two of us” she said and looked at me. It was all happening so fast that I just

decided to go with it. She was giving him a blow-job when the champagne arrived. I took it, locked the door and stripped out of my clothes in a hurry. Then Francesca stood up, pushed Giovanni into a chair and simply said; “Watch, but do not touch” I would not have expected it, but the touch of a woman tuned me on so much. She did things to me that no man had ever managed. But I kept looking over at him stroking his amazing cock and thinking ‘what a waste. She made me cum a dozen times or more and I tried to do the same for her, Giovanni just kept asking, no begging actually, to join in but she would reprimand him in Italian. I finally watched as he made himself cum all over the place, frustrated that he could not have either of us. As soon as he finished, Francesca got up, took my hand and said we should go. We got dressed, waved to the deflated man in the chair and went off. We laughed as we walked through the darkened streets, My head was swirling with ideas. Confusion, lust, desire. It makes a pretty powerful cocktail. “Jazlyn” she said as we stood outside my apartment “you must go. Go far away from this place. Bali, Thailand, South Africa, maybe Brazil. It doesn’t matter. Go and find a place, find yourself. It won’t do for you to stay.” Then she kissed me and turned and walked away, just like that. I stood there, a little in awe, a little in shock, thinking about what she said. “I love you Jazlyn” she said over her shoulder “Now be sure to take my advice.” I went upstairs and sat on my bed for an hour. And then I began to pack my things. ***

Watch for Twice The Vixen, coming soon! ***

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