The chapter list
On the sizzling beach on the French Riviera, lay young, virile Englishman Roger, who had been thoroughly enjoying his fortnight's break with a very satisfying series of one night stands.
His latest conquest, Martine, had slapped his face that morning, when he'd calmly told her he wouldn't see her again. That's how twenty two year old Roger left them all.
Now, carefree, he was relaxing on the beach in his shiny blue trunks, surveying with a satisfied eye the teaming crowd, with an eye to tonight's conquest. She'd have to be special, for it was his last night, tomorrow he had to fly home.
It was then he espied a vision, a most unusual vision, promenading, yes that's the word, along the sands.
She looked in her mid thirties, fairly well worn, but what was utterly striking were the biggest boobs he had ever seen in the flesh. He had seen photos of bigger ones, but these were real, right near to him, surely waiting his love! They bulged firmly under her frilly swimming costume, poking wildly out so that he, and indeed the whole riviera, could admire her cleavage and the strong nipples that threatened to pop thru the shiny material, bright blue upper, a shiny blue thin waistband and turquoise lower.
Yet these delightful objects weren't all that was arresting about her. On her head was a small five starred crown on a thick white band around the front of her forehead.
Her hair was blonde, but close cropped, except for her fringe that covered the band that dropped over her eyebrows. Her thick black glasses gave her an intellectual quality, enhanced by the five foot staff she airily carried in her hand, as though she were monarch of all she surveyed.
Over her amazingly thin, near hour-glass body, was an airy chiffon long sleeved open gown that waved in her wake, that was loosely held behind her by a small young lady. It was the latter who introduced herself as Francoise, a mere 4 foot 9, aged about 25.
"Etes-vous seul?" she asked.
"Anglais," explained Roger.
"Ah, monsieur. Please to introduce my mistress, who all ze world calls Queen Elsa."
Roger sighed with desire in the presence of her entrancing beauty. The tassels round her hem shimmered in the breeze, wrapping themselves gorgeously around her thighs.
With a responsive sigh, the Queen lay down face forward on her enormous bosoms looking into Roger's bewitched face. Francoise stood attentively by.
She confided to Roger that her mistress was sad today, because her servant had suddenly quit. They are looking for a replacement.
"I'm going home tomorrow," admitted Roger sadly, "but ask her if she's doing anything tonight!" He was beguiled by this extraordinary creature. He had to find out more about her. He simply had to conquer her tonight!
Maybe Queen Elsa had similar notions! One delicate hand she stretched out so it rested on Roger's upper thigh. As he lay on the sand, Roger's eyes never wavered from those fascinating boobs that wobbled in invitation as she moved. He traced with his eyes the veins that ran along the giant beauties, as far as the point where they sadly disappeared into her costume. He felt her fingers tickling his upper thigh.
"She is too upset at present," was Francoise's odd commentary on this action, "she cannot live wizzout her servant."
"Isn't that you?"
"Certainement non!" expostulated Francoise, "I am ze Queen's personal confidente. But how about you? Would you be my mistress's maid for tonight?"
"Oui monsieur, I am telling you, she must have ze maid."
"Well, I could be a manservant perhaps..."
"Ah non, she does not want ze butler, zat's what ze English word is, n'est-ce-pas? She is only used to ze maid."
Roger looked doubtful. There was some bargaining going on here, he'd have to be her maid if she...
Roger decided there were easier ways of having fun tonight.
But the queen had read Roger like a book. She sat up and rested Roger's head between her bosoms. He was passive, longing for her next move. Surely she couldn't be contemplating having him here among the crowds of holidaymakers?
As he enjoyed the sensation of his head nestled between her breasts, she started fingering his balls as though conducting a doctor's medical. Already excited, Roger was instantaneously erect.
Francoise had fetched three windbreaks, for needed privacy as well as a view of the rolling sea, if that was of any interest at present.
Then Roger saw her kneel to adjust her mistress's crown. An ultra thin silk veil was unraveled from the band, pulled down to cover Elsa's face to the base of her neck. At the same time she squeezed his balls firmly, the pain forcing him to lift his body off the sand.
"My mistress desires that you lie with your head down on her ankles," said Francoise, in a tone that suggested that such a desire was also a royal command.
Roger had no objection to this foreplay. His face rested on the sand between her feet but was at once, in a deft action, wrapped around her ankles. He could feel her crotch area, she wore some sort of plastic material underneath her costume.
He was burning with excitement now he was in her clutches. Francoise had pushed his legs so they were either side of her head. Roger wondered if he should also wrap his legs round her head, but Francoise, as she stood up, warned him with a gesture.
"Non, my friend," she leaned down to his trapped face and whispered, "you only do what mistress demands."
How do I know that, he pondered. Best to let her pleasure him, he decided happily. He shivered when she started masturbating his poker with the movement of her body. Roger was bursting, only anxious he should not before he could take her fully. But that it seemed was not her majesty's wish.
With a thrill, he felt her hand release his bulging poker to softly touch her ginormous treasures. His precum trickled between those entrancing breasts. Then, as she poked the naked thing under her blue costume he couldn't contain his pounding poker any longer. It jerked out its cum between her two bulging hot breasts, which heaved their thanks at his offering.
"Maybe maid just for tonight," he cried happily.