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We were staying in Paris a few years ago, at the Hotel Angleterre, a historic building made into a hotel many years ago. I’m George, my wife is Jane, Jayne, or Janey, pick one. Janey was thirty-two, not beautiful, but a very attractive redhead with long sexy legs. She enjoys the attention of men, and has had many men friends, some of them intimate. I’m ten years older than her and we’ve been married for ten years.
There was a nice restaurant we’d been to before, highly recommended, very cosmopolitan and friendly, called Polidor. It was up Rue le Prince and not a long walk from the hotel.
It was a nice spring evening so we decided to walk. As it turned out it was further than we had remembered and the pavement was rough and uneven, so even though we made it okay we decided we’d get a taxi to get back to the hotel when we left.
The restaurant was crowded and noisy and at first we shared a table with another couple, Spaniards I think. After they left another couple joined us. They were middle-European, Czech or Polish. They spoke pretty good English and as we sat on opposite sides of the table we shared some interesting conversation and a few jokes. We also shared a bottle of red wine over our meal.
We were eating when we were joined by a Frenchman about my age who couldn’t get a table. Now we had three languages going but the wine (another bottle had appeared) made it all understandable.
As we talked I noticed the Frenchman had his hand on Janey’s knee. She doesn’t speak any French, so I had to try to interpret what he was saying, which was getting pretty personal. As, for instance, did she go out with men other than her husband, or rather, did her husband allow her to go out with other men. When I told her what he’d said she just nodded. And the rather one-sided conversation continued.
As he continued his hand had now slipped under the hem of her short skirt. If I could see I knew the others could see too because of the way they looked at each other and smiled. Then the man of the other couple asked me if I minded it. I said I didn’t mind if it gave her pleasure. Adding that it probably wouldn’t go anywhere anyway.
And so it continued, his hand slowly working up under Janey’s skirt, and she had turned her knees toward him, so it was obvious he must have his hand on her soft inner thigh. He was still talking to her even though she didn’t understand much of what he was saying, but I thought I heard him use the “baiser”, which can mean either to kiss or fuck, depending on the context. I thought it was time to go, and I was getting pretty hot watching the man at work on my wife, and I wanted to get her back to the hotel room.
When we stood up to go the Frenchman asked where we were staying and poker oyna when I told him, and that we were going to get a taxi, he said his car was outside and he’d take us. I hesitated, but Janey jumped at the idea. He helped us into a dilapidated Citroen 2CV parked out on the street, me sitting in the back, Janey on the passenger seat in front.
As he drove to the hotel his hand went immediately under Janey’s skirt as she turned her legs toward him. As we drove he must have hit the spot, because she was sitting, eyes closed, knees apart for him. Suddenly she pulled away, pulled up her skirt, pulled off her panties and threw them on the floor. Turning back she tried to put one leg over the gear shift but couldn’t do it, so she sat there with her skirt pulled and legs apart while he fingered her.
I was wondering what we’d do when we got to the hotel. If he just dropped us off, that was okay. We could go up to the room and finish what he’d started. Or if he wanted to continue, what then?
My question was soon answered when we go there. He parked and we all got out without a word. He and I followed Janey up to the front door and went in. He paused to talk to the concierge, slipped him some money with a smile and we all went up to the room. Once in the door the Frenchman immediately took Janey into his arms and kissed her while running his hands all over her body. She responded eagerly, their open mouths avidly sucking down each others saliva.
They were ignoring me and as I could see I wasn’t wanted I slipped quietly over to a chaise longue on the other side of the room to watch them.
He was trying to unbutton her blouse but was fumbling, so Janey opened it for him. After that she undid her bra and he started to kiss, fondle and suck her breasts. Janey moaned with pleasure and pushed her lower body against his leg. Next I watched his hand slip up under her skirt and between her legs. They were still standing as she tried to spread her legs wider for him. Her skirt was too tight, so he pushed her skirt up and she was naked from the waist down showing the nice bushy tuft of hair between her legs.
She moved back again and I watched his hand slip between her legs which she now spread wide for him. I couldn’t see him working but she was thrusting herself against him, legs slightly bent, head down against his shoulder and she purred softly, moving her lower body toward him.
“Oh so good. Si bon, tres bon.” Ah, I thought, she’d picked up some French. And I smiled to myself.
Her back was to the bed. He pushed her gently and she fell back on to it and as she did her legs came up and spread in front of him.
He gazed down at what was opened in front of him. “Qu’elle soit belle, la chatte.” (“What a beautiful canlı poker oyna cunt”).
He unzipped and took his penis out, then moving her legs wide with his hands fell on top of her. He slipped easily into her wet vagina and she gave along sigh.
“Oh God yes.” She murmured. “fuck me, oh yes, fuck my cunt.”
I heard him whisper something in French. Then he started to move in and out of her slowly at first but he soon gathered speed until he was pounding her. Her enjoyment was obvious from the noise she was making and what she was muttering:
“Lovely, ah…so nice. Fuck me …fuck me you lovely Frenchman…aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah yes…” and so on.
On and on he went, pounding harder, then slowly, gently, until suddenly she jerked and he back arched as she reached an orgasm.
“Oh fuck yes…” she groaned gripping him tightly with her legs.
She lay still for a moment with her legs wrapped around him and he was still. She opened her legs again and he started the slow deliberate motion, in and out, in and out, on and on. This seemed to go on for a long time until he started to quicken his pace and with a gasp and a groan he ejaculated into her eager vagina.
They lay still for a moment. locked together, her legs stocking legs still wrapped around him. My penis during this had become rock hard. I stroked it gently and wondered if I should take his place now. He had pulled away and taken off the shirt he was still wearing and his trousers, followed by his underwear. He looked down at her as she lay legs still spread.
She was wearing stockings, her skirt pulled up to her waist and the shirt open framing her breasts. Beautiful!
Reaching down he took her hands and pulled her to sitting position, and kissed her. This was my wife! I felt a mix of jealousy and frustration – and a need to fuck her. I was retrained because the show was so wonderful.
Janey took her stockings off and stood up. He was totally naked as they kissed again. My heart pounded as I – and the Frenchman – watched her slowly take the rest of her clothes off. He turned off the light and they climbed into bed together.
In the morning I woke early and they were at it again, fucking,fucking, fucking. I was getting light, so I rolled over and watched. They were under the covers, so there wasn’t much to see, but the sounds emanating from the bed were wonderful to hear. She was grunting, groaning and sighing with delight and satisfaction.
Soon, all too soon, his pace quickened, and with one or two big heaves I could discern that he was squirting his juice into my sweeties vagina. Did she have an orgasm too? I knew that often it didn’t really matter, she enjoyed just the act, just the fucking and feeling a man inside internet casino her.
They lay still for a few minutes, then the Frenchman got up and headed for the toilet. I jumped up and quietly followed him and cornered him before he could get there.
In halting French I asked: “Je’ai envie me coucher avec my femme.” – “I want to lie with my wife.” I think I said, and I went on to ask if we could swap places.
He was quite agreeable, after all he’d got what he wanted – twice! So Francois and I (I’d learned his name by now) swapped places, and I found myself in bed beside Janey. He, meanwhile, came back from the bathroom and was now lying on the chaise longue.
I felt Janey’s lovely smooth bottom with my hand, and my fingers found their way to her wet, slippery slit. And my how wet and slippery it was. I’ve never minded what is called “sloppy seconds”, and I guess you could call this sloppy thirds. She was full!
I was rock hard by this time, and she rolled toward me and we kissed, tongues meeting and entwining in each others mouths, swallowing, sucking. She spread her legs and rolled over on her back and my penis slipped easily into her open wet hole.
We threw off the covers and I started to hammer that lovely, sloppy, very sloppy, vagina. I enjoyed the fact Francois must have been watching us, and hoped he was enjoying it too. We were animals now, mating, fucking.
“Yes!, yes. Fuck me.” She muttered, and I could feel her internal muscles tighten on my penis.
It was wonderful, and since she was so loose I could last a little bit longer. On and on it seemed to go until finally I felt that almost painful feeling you get from a great orgasm, and started to ejaculate into her eager hole.
We slept, we slept for another hour. It was late when we got up and Francois had already showered and dressed and was waiting for us on the chaise longue. We showered and dressed quickly and all went down to eat le petit dejeuner, as the French call breakfast. As we went in I asked the manager how much it would be if Francois were to eat with us. With a smirk he told us, although I didn’t understand everything he said, but from the smiles and glances from the other customers he must have said something about our arrangement, perhaps commenting on our menage a trois.
After breakfast we walked out to his with car to say goodbye to Francois and he said that perhaps we’d meet again at Polidor.
Toward the end of our week in Paris we started to think about having dinner at Polidor again, and finally on the last day we again walked down Rue le Prince. As usual Polidor was crowded, and as we made our way to a table we looked for Francois. And there he was, sitting at a table with a group of people, smiling and chatting with a young pretty woman, and yes, his hand was on her knee, just creeping under her skirt. When I smiled and waved he returned the wave with the other hand. He was obviously working on another lucky “victim”.
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