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Paris

The first time I saw the woman I would marry, it was not love at first sight, nor even lust. She was cute, a five foot four brunette with wavy hair about collar length, lovely dark brown eyes, a nice 36C rack and an ass that was neither flat nor fat. Her best friend, though, was a knockout and one of my friends and I competed for her attention. He won and I accepted the condolence prize, Ann.

Despite the beginning, Ann was very charming and we began dating. She refused to become intimate and even heavy petting was not allowed. As a result, she was a virgin when we got married months later. I had not expected that to be a problem, but I quickly learned that it was, as she did not like to do anything “weird” during sex. The missionary position was the just about the only one she would allow. If she was really excited, she would occasionally get on top, but that was rare. She would not allow me to go down on her unless she was a little tipsy and she would not let me stay down long before telling me to “get to the point,” which meant to stop eating and start fucking. She absolutely refused to perform fellatio.

This made for a sex life that was okay for frequency, but lacking in variety.

While Ann detested sex scenes in movies (and said that porn movies are “disgusting”), I discovered that a movie with some erotic scenes, coupled with some alcohol, turned her from a rather cold creature into a wild vixen (well, not too wild, but definitely passionate).. It was a combination I tried to ensure happened often, although not always with success. Too much erotica and she was turned off. Too much alcohol and she could not come, which would frustrate her. She would then cut off the love making, leaving me frustrated with blue balls. I had to call on Rosy Palm to provide relief after Ann fell asleep.

Not quite four years after we married, a letter arrived from Marc. He was French and had been an exchange student in my high school. Since I spoke French fairly well, I helped him with his English, which was not bad to begin with, and he helped me learn his language better. After he returned home, he and I stayed in contact, usually by mail, sometimes on the phone.

What made this letter different was Marc wrote that his aunt, who lived in Paris, was leaving the city, as many Parisians do in August, for a vacation. The aunt wanted him to stay in her apartment and care for her fish during her absence. Marc, living in a grubby industrial city near the German border, readily agreed to take up the awful task of caring for a few fish.

Marc ended his letter by inviting us to spend some time with them. We jumped at the chance and got passports and, once the passports arrived, the plane tickets.

Marc and his wife, Yvette, met us at Charles DeGaulle Airport. I had seen pictures of Yvette that Marc had sent after they got married two years earlier. They did not do her justice. She was a very attractive, slender brunette with small perky breasts. Lustful thoughts flooded my mind unbidden. I put them away, greeted my old friend and introduced my wife to the French couple. We quickly realized that communications would be a small problem. My wife spoke no French and Yvette’s English was very limited. Marc and I would have to bear the burden of translating most anything said by either of the wives.

Marc drove us into Paris to the apartment. It was not small – it was incredibly tiny with one bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchenette and an area that served as the living and dining room with a sofa bed, a table and two chairs.

They offered us the bedroom and we declined, saying we would be just fine with the sofa bed.

Turned on by our visit to the City of Lights, Ann was horny when night came, but we found that the bed we had chosen was unbelievably noisy. Ann was embarrassed by that, not wanting Marc and Yvette to hear what was going on, so we got off the bed and coupled on the hard floor. It was not the best sex, but still not too bad. However, the experience caused us to forego anymore lovemaking for most of our stay.

On our last night in Paris, we went to the Lido, one of the best cabarets in Paris situated on the famous avenue, Champs Elysees.

I had no idea what to expect there. When the revue began, Ann’s mouth dropped open as the topless showgirls paraded their assets. Impressive assets at that. During dinner, accompanied by a couple bottles of Dom Perignon, there was a show that involved simulated sex between a man and a woman. Ann scowled at that, but her hand on my leg told me it had turned her on. I knew I was going to get lucky that night.

After the show, we went back to the apartment. Ann was a little intoxicated and very horny. The champagne and the simulated sex show had done the magic. I could hardly wait for our host and hostess to go to their room so that my wife and I could enjoy each other.

Not wanting the noise from the bed to disturb anyone, we decided to try leaving it as a sofa. It certainly could not have made more noise that way than it did as a bed.

We were sitting on the sofa and, just as soon as we heard the bedroom door shut, we turned to each other, embraced and began kissing.

I had already removed my suit coat and tie. Ann began unbuttoning my shirt while I unzipped her dress. We interrupted the kissing long enough for me to pull off my shirt and tee-shirt. I turned back to Ann, putting my arms around her. I lowered the dress past her shoulders and down to her waist, slipped my hand inside a bra cup, fondling her breasts and running my fingers over her hardening nipple.

Then we heard the sound of the bedroom door opening again.

Ann pulled away, grabbed at the dress and pulled it up in front of her, just as Marc entered the room, followed by Yvette.

Neither of them had much clothing on. Marc was clad only in a pair of bikini briefs. “Brief” is not adequate to describe how small they were. Yvette had on a short top like a tee-shirt that did not go down to her navel. It was readily apparent that she had no bra on, but she did have on a pair of panties that were slightly larger than the garment covering her husband.

“Oh! Excuse us!” Marc said with some embarrassment when he saw us sitting on the sofa, half clothed. He looked away and walked to the kitchen followed by his wife.

Ann looked at me with surprise on her face that anyone could parade around in front of others like that. She started to put her arms back into her dress, but I stopped her.

“They are just going to the kitchen and will be back in their room soon,” I told her.

A minute later, the couple re-appeared.

Ann uttered a short gasp and then whispered, “Oh my God! Is that real?”

I saw that she was staring at Marc’s crotch and chuckled. Marc and I had been in locker and shower rooms more than a few times while playing soccer in high school and, unless a few years had produced some shrinkage, I knew he was well endowed.

I called, jokingly, to Marc in French, “Ann wants to see if that is all you.”

Marc stopped, surprised. He looked at Ann, then turned to his wife and said something that I could not hear. Yvette laughed. She put her hands Marc’s shoulders, turned him to face Ann, then dropped her hands down, pulling the briefs to the floor. I had not expected that to happen.

Marc stepped out of the item and stood there in all of his glory. Even limp, it was an impressive sight and Ann’s eyes widened. She had only seen one dick prior to that moment and there was no way mine could compare to that of my friend. Moreover, I am circumcised. Marc was uncut.

Ann turned to me and whispered, “Can I touch it?”

I was stunned and wondered “Who is this woman and what has she done with my wife?” My wife rarely stroked me, so this was a change that boggled my mind.

I considered saying “No,” but the alcohol and the moment did not permit that. I nodded, saying, “But you need to ask them.”

I made the translation and received stares in return.

Then Marc stepped across the room, standing right in front of Ann. Still clasping her dress above her bosom, she reached out with her right hand and gently touched Marc’s cock. Then she slipped her index finger behind it and ran the tip of her finger from the base down the length of the shaft to the tip. Understandably, Marc’s cock stiffened in response. Ann wrapped her fingers around the hardening cock and it continued to move upwards. At one point, the head of his dick came out from its sheath and Ann commented, “Oh, THERE you are.”

She leaned in and her tongue flickered out to edge of the head. My bewilderment magnified. In four years, Ann had always refused to do anything of the sort with me. Then she dropped her hold on her dress and the top half fell to her waist again. Her left hand cupped Marc’s balls, her right hand wrapped around his cock and she licked her way down the bottom of the shaft from the head to the balls and then back up again. Apparently, she had forgotten to ask for permission to do this or did not care if anyone granted it. She just did it.

Marc reached down to Ann’s back and quickly unfastened the strapless bra which fell down on her lap to join her dress around her waist. When mark touched her back, Ann paused in her licking only for a second and then went back to work on his cock.

Freed of the bra, her 36C tits hung down only briefly, though, as I scooted as close to Ann as I could, and placed my left hand on her left breast, while my right arm grasped her around the waist and I nuzzled the back of her neck. All the while, she continued to play with Marc’s dick.

“Ce n’est pas juste, tu sais,” Yvette remarked.

“What is not fair? “ I asked her in French.

“She is getting all the attention,” she pouted.

I replied in less than perfect French that I would give her all the attention she wanted. She understood me and walked over. She quickly opened my belt, unzipped my fly and pulled my trousers to the floor. My underwear soon followed.

Pulling the tee shirt over her head, she revealed those small, but wonderfully perfect tits with nipples quite hard and sticking out nearly half an inch. Keeping her panties on, she straddled me and began rubbing her groin against my rigid dick. I cupped one breast and put my mouth to the other, running my tongue slowly around the erect nipple. My free hand went behind her, ran down her back, under the panties to her ass as she continued to grind against me.

We kept this up for only a few minutes when she spoke softly and rapidly to her husband. I caught only one word and it meant “fuck.”

Marc stopped watching Ann suck him and looked at the two of us. He shrugged and said “D’accord,” which means “Okay.”

Yvette stood up and started to remove her panties, slowly moving them off her hips, down lower, revealing her pussy then continuing down. My cock could not have gotten harder and I hoped she would hurry and let me bury it in her pussy.

Ann, who had not understood the quick exchange, must have realized what Yvette intended to do. She stopped experimenting with her new found toy of flesh and moved from the edge of the sofa to the back. I figured she was going to put a stop to playtime but she then lifted her butt off the seat and pulled her dress down. Marc quickly went to help Ann shed the dress, then the pantyhose which were followed by the panties. My wife was completely naked before Yvette had finished her slow strip of panties only.

Ann scooted her ass forward a little, placed her hands behind her knees and pulled her legs back while spreading them. Marc must have had a great view. From where I was, her left thigh blocked me from seeing her pussy or even the hair above it.

Yvette was moving back onto me, taking my cock in her hand. I stopped her and leaned over my wife’s chest, barely able to get my head between her lifted legs and her breasts. I had been overcome with a desire to see Marc’s dick penetrate my wife.

Marc edged forward, his large, rock hard cock in hand. He placed his knees on the edge of the sofa, leaned over and guided himself into her pussy. As the head slipped past her pussy lips, Ann gasped loudly. Marc continued to bury his manhood in a pussy that had previously known only one other dick. As he progressed, slowly, Ann’s eyes closed and she tilted her head back, uttering a low moan of pleasure. When Marc finally had inserted his substantial length all the way, I leaned back up and looked at Yvette. She, too, had been watching her mate mating with mine, but turned back to me.

Taking my cock in hand once more, she lifted up, found the right spot and eased down on me. I placed my hands on her breasts as she lifted up and down, riding me slowly.

I remained distracted by the action next to us and found myself trying to follow what was happening with my wife while giving Yvette the attention she demanded. My cock was certainly up to the task with the dual excitement generated by Yvette on me while my wife was being fucked by Marc.

I wondered if Ann had drunk too much to come or, at least, to come soon. This had happened to us on more than one occasion and she found it frustrating to be not quite there when I could no longer hold off. Then there was the question of Marc. Clearly, Ann had stimulated him quite a bit and, if I had been him, I would have been coming pretty quickly.

Ann began pushing back, a sure sign that she was ready to come. Marc, without being told, recognized the sign and began thrusting more vigorously. It did not take long after that for Ann to utter a long, low moan as she came. Marc, I learned later, was grateful, because he had been about to come himself, with or without her. He leaned forward and grunted a few times as he came.

Marc pulled out, Ann stood up and I took the opportunity to return my full attention to Yvette. I moved her to the sofa on her back.

Without the distraction of our spouses fucking, we were able to devote ourselves to serious coupling. I moved over her and she guided my dick, somewhat slick from her juices, back into her pussy. I began a slow rhythm, pushing in and pulling back. Yvette lifted her legs and wrapped them as well as she could around my back side, using them to pull me into her. At the same time, she started bucking against me. I picked up the pace.


Yvette came with a fairly loud shriek. I exploded inside her and it was so intense that it almost hurt.

I sat back up on my knees, resting my ass on my feet. Yvette lay there, legs still spread, pussy oozing my semen and her juices. She put one arm back behind her head and smiled at me. Neither of us spoke. Marc was sitting, naked, on a chair, watching us. Ann was not there, but soon came in, dressed in her nightgown. I had not noticed her leave the room and had no idea how much she had watched before going to change.

Not long after, Marc and Yvette retired to their room. Ann and I converted the sofa into a bed, put the comforter on it and crawled in. She turned away from me. We never sleep face to face, so this was not unusual. I moved up behind her, in a spoon position, and moved my left hand over her to cup one of her breasts. I felt her go rigid.

She turned her head slightly and whispered “Are you upset with me?”

“Absolutely not!” I whispered back. “I love you and that was great.” My cock, which was hard again, emphasized the point on her ass. She noticed and hiked up her gown so that I could rub myself against her pussy lips. Then she surprised me by guiding me inside her. We had never screwed in that position or any other rear entry position. I did not point that out to her. We made love that way for a few minutes, but spooning does not allow for vigorous sex and Ann, turned on once more, turned onto her back. I got on top and the rapid thrusting soon had the sofa bed squeaking loudly. We had no concerns about our friends hearing us. The thumps and moans coming down the hallway told us that they were pre-occupied.

I came first, and that usually poses a problem as I cannot go on long after having an orgasm. Ann ordered me to keep going and I obeyed despite the protests of my dick and its threats to go limp very quickly. Ann finally came and we were soon asleep.

Morning and sobriety arrived. I feared the worst. Ann, Yvette or Marc might have regrets about the previous night and my friendship with Marc, my marriage to Ann or both would be damaged beyond repair. My fears lessened when Marc and Yvette walked in, both completely nude. Ann sat up in the sofa bed, pulled off her nightgown and invited Marc to join her for a morning shower, completely eliminating my concerns.

I could not see what happened in the shower, but the sounds told me that Ann had a good time.

Yvette and I took also took a shower together once our spouses vacated the bathroom. Yvette warned me that the hot water would not last long, most of it having been used by our spouses.

“So, how long until it gets hot again?” I asked.

“You can get hotter faster,” she replied.

I did not try to figure out if she was complimenting me or complaining about the shower. I turned on the water, adjusting it to be warm enough to be enjoyable, but not so hot as to use up what was left too fast.

We each grabbed a wash cloth and began soaping each other. We started with the head, then moved down to the shoulders and then the chest. I certainly got more enjoyment out of rubbing soap and water on her firm breasts than she did rubbing on my chest. Then I dropped down to her abdominal area while she stood there. I moved further down and playfully inserted my finger in her pussy.

“Stop that!” she giggled in French.

“Why? Don’t you like that?”

“Yes, but, first, you must wash me.”

I complied, taking care of her legs, then turning her around to do her back. Her ass was up against my cock (which was hard and I worried about soap getting in, since that stings). While soaping her shoulders, I rubbed my cock on her ass.

“You are insatiable!” she remarked.

“You want me to stop?”

“NO!”

I put the soap and washcloth aside, put my hands on her hips and backed her up a bit. She understood and leaned forward to allow me better access to her. Her hand went down to my cock and rubbed it briefly on her pussy before inserting it into her.

I had not accomplished much when I felt the temperature of the water from the showerhead dropping. I interrupted the fucking to turn it off. Nothing like cold water to ruin the moment.

We resumed the position and I re-entered her.

After a few minutes, Yvette came, but I was not close. I asked her if she wanted me to keep going.

“You can?” she asked.

I did not know how to tell her in French that I would fuck her all day long, if she wanted. I simply said “Toujours” (always). Yvette laughed at the exaggeration.

We kept going and Yvette came again after a few minutes. When she did, she pushed her ass down on me and wiggled it. That was enough for me and I ejaculated. While I did not come as hard as I had the night before, but I did come and was happy, as was Yvette.

We finished showering, actually getting clean, and the shower to rejoin our spouses.

Ann asked, “Have fun?”

“From the sounds of it, I thought you did, too, when you were in the shower with Marc.”

Ann turned crimson and then inquired if I still loved her.

“Always and then some,” I told her.

At noon, Ann and I were off on our return trip home.

Although we stayed in contact with Marc and Yvette, it was another ten years before we saw them again.

End of Story