Rex Gordon - Menage a quatre - 36 Hours of Pleasure

Colette kissed Judy and fondled her breast, and Rick was hanging onto to Genevieve, pumping his last thrusts into her.

" Tres bien , very good, very, very good." Genevieve said. She slid away from Judy to the floor and Rick was standing in front of her with his cock still hard.

"Please come back here. Come behind me and fuck me," Colette said. Now, there was a marked difference in her tone. She no longer made a demand but a request.

Judy looked at Colette's timid expression. Rick was in charge now, and Judy loved it.

He smiled and looked at both of them. Only a few minutes ago, the hotel manager was the tyrant who had complete control of her subjects, but now she was the subject and Rick the leader.

"I'd only fuck you if I want to fuck you, but right now, I want to fuck my wife," Rick said.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you two can do anything you want. Fuck your friend, eat her, or just watch us, but I want to fuck my wife."

"Oh, Rick. That's the nicest thing you've ever said in front of other people."

"And I mean it," he said.

With her legs still spread, Rick went around in front of her with his cock in hand. While Colette looked on, Genevieve brought her fingers to Judy's pussy and spread the outer lips for Rick to fuck her. He took three, easy strokes, then rapidly picked up speed, and began to slam into her and fuck her, as he had never fucked her before.

"They are so beautiful," Genevieve said, as if she were speaking of cherubs or children.

"Yes," Colette said. She turned Genevieve toward her, pulled her into her arms, and kissed her while her fingers explored her body.

"We will get another man when they leave," Colette said in French.

" Oui, madam, oui. Oh, yesssss."

The two women kissed, but Rick pumped his cock harder and harder, fucking his wife and making love to her at the same time. All the physical pleasure that preceeded this moment was nothing like the pleasure of the fantastic love-fuck of her own husband.

"I told you the Americans are crazy," Colette said.

She said it in English for Rick and Judy's benefit, but to Judy it made no difference. She was here in Paris, making love with her own husband, and in front of an audience, the way she had fantasized since the first days of their marriage.

***

When Rick and Judy returned to there room, someone had slipped a message under their door that said Leslie's husband Brandon would be coming to Paris the next afternoon.

"Damn," Judy said. "What's that going to mean?"

"I don't know what it means now, but Leslie better be here in the morning. Maybe you'd better go get her now?"

"No. The morning is soon enough," Judy said. She laced her fingers in Rick's hair, looked up and pecked him lightly on the lips. If they were not going to get any sleep, they might as well make the best of it.

"Place de la Concorde, Rue Royale!" the driver shouted.

"Huh?" Brandon Carson said, and he awoke from making love to Judy Haines. It was something he often dreamed about, and even more often, thought about, but he was in Paris now, and he'd better mind his thoughts.

"Thank you," Brandon said.

What's the matter with me, he thought. He had a wife he loved and a secretary he fucked every day and many nights until he got rid of her. Yet he was still having wet dreams about his friend's wife. He was too damned insatiable, that was his problem.

"But is that a bad thing?" he muttered to himself as he rearranged his cock in his trousers.

"Pardon, monsieur?"

"Nothing," he said, and climbed out of the taxi in front of the hotel.

It was nearly four in the morning, Paris time, but he hurried through the hotel check-in ritual. The night clerk called up to his room twice, and finally, he said that there was no answer.

That was curious, no answer in the middle of the night? But Leslie had always been a sound sleeper. "How about Mr. and Mrs. Haines?" he said, and the house operator connected him.

"Yes?" said a sleepy Judy Haines.

"It's me, Brandon. I'm sorry to wake you up, but Leslie isn't answering?"

"Leslie?" she said.

"Yes, my wife, Leslie. This is Brandon. I got an earlier flight. I'm in the lobby."

"Oh, shit! Oh, Brandon. Sorry, I was sleeping. Come right to our room. Don't bother her. She's knocked out."

"Don't bother her? What are you talking about?" he said, but realized she had already hung up the phone.

He carried his own bag to the room and tapped on the door.

"Wait a sec," Judy said.

He waited for her to open the door, but it was not until he knocked again that she hollered, "Come on in."

Brandon stepped inside. He lowered his suit bag to the floor and did a double take at Judy who was lying on the bed in her bathrobe.

"Come over here and sit with me," Judy she, smiling and patting a place beside her.

"Where's, uh, I mean where's, uh, Rick … and Leslie?" He was confused and jealous. At the same time, he was terrible interested in Judy's pose, her inviting smile. Damn! She was even wearing earrings in the middle of the night.

"They went to breakfast," Judy said.

"At this hour of the morning?"

"There's a whole different time thing in Paris. You know, jet lag and all that. I'm sure you have some of it," Judy said.

"Breakfast? Oh. I … uh … maybe I should … uh … I guess I should to my own room. Is it through this door?" he said.

For some reason, he didn't go back for his bag, and he crossed to the connecting door, with its glass panels and high latch. Before he even gripped the latch, Leslie jumped from the bed. "Come back here, you ninny."

"But I mean, my room…"

"Don't be so shy," Judy said.

By that time, she had slid between him and the door, but she was still wearing the I-want-you smile.

"They won't be back for a while yet. Come on, Brandon, you know we've always wanted to fuck."

Damn she was beautiful, and what she said was the truth. It was not just that he wanted to fuck her. Sometimes when he saw that look on her face, he thought she wanted to fuck him too, but until this moment, he suspected it was all part was his imagination. Yet even with her admission, he resisted.

"This is not exactly the kind of relationship we have," Brandon said, with his deepest voice. He spoke as if making a strong point for a jury, but he was betrayed by the quiver in his voice, deep though it was, and the hard cock that was rising again in his trousers.

"And what kind of relationship do we have?" she asked. She slid her fingers inside the flap of her robe, parting the material, and moving it away from her bare flesh.

"We have uh … just a friendly relationship."

Her fingers moved lower, and now she caught the belt of the robe with her fingers.

"Rick and I are friends," he said, but he knew his protest was unconvincing. He thought of all the times he had seen her in a bikini bathing suit, and his cock got even harder.

"So you're friends with Rick? We're friends too, and what are friends for? You're having an affair with that dippy secretary of yours aren't you? And don't tell me it's because you and she have sooooo much in common."

"Where did you hear about my secretary?"

"I didn't have to hear it. I saw it," she said, and began to untie the bow of the narrow sash.

"What do you mean, 'you saw it?'"

"I see you and your secretary at parties. I see the way she looks at you. A lot of people see you sneak away for ten or fifteen minutes. Hell, I followed you myself once. She gives one noisy damn blow job. You're always hiding from Leslie, but the rest of us see right though, you."

The sash was untied now.

"That's all over. I ended it," he said.