tagLoving Wives1994: Our Sexy Honeymoon

1994: Our Sexy Honeymoon

bygggsss1962©

Our Wedding was a stressful event. I know, almost all weddings are, but ours was more than most.

First of all, taking it place in Piedmont while we were living next to Milan, my parents were more or less in charge. You can imagine the problems, when the mother takes the lead... Second, I was a Catholic marrying a non-Catholic in Italy.

It isn't as you think, it's NOT that it is strongly disapproved or anything; it's just something still extremely rare. Officials, both religious and administrative, have no clue how to handle it. We ended up getting married at the Town Hall, just because the priest needed more documents we could provide him with, since many had to be found either in Holland or in France. He wasn't trying to discourage us: he was truly in shit with his bishop.

Then, of course, Karin was stressed herself. She sensed my mother's reproach about all those problems, and felt sorry for me, then felt inadequate, and then... ...She got a crisis, and I spotted her on the verge on doing something very stupid which involved white powder. Fuck that. Well, anyway. We managed.

The ceremony, as organized by my parents, was perfect. We had a long evening party at our favourite restaurant on the river banks, and Karin was beautiful in her creamy-white dress. Somebody wasn't happy about Ysa being there too, actually dressed up with a cute ribbon bow, but we wanted ALL our best friends, and Ysa listed quite high on our list.

We ended up sleeping (yes, sleeping... No first night story, I'm sorry. When we hit bed, we were devastated) in the hotel where Karin and her family had slept the last two nights.

The day after, we left for our honeymoon.

***

Karin wasn't in her best shape when we left. The stress of the last days hit her more than I thought.

Thinking of it today, I should have expected it: after all, until that moment it had just been a thought... Now she was really married to me. It wasn't a dream; her life had really changed so much! Just a year earlier she was just having a nice sexy flirt in Portovenere, with a former client of hers who just turned out to be a nice guy... Eighteen months earlier, she had just being waiting for the overdose that would take her away forever.

Of course she was stressed!

We drove to France just with a small igloo tent, after leaving poor Ysa in the best pension we knew.

I wasn't so mad about France. People from Piedmont have been at war against continuously-invading French for almost five hundred years in a raw, until the demise of Napoleon. After that we tried to get along for pure decency, but we never really trusted our cousins. Maybe because we are quite alike. Or maybe because we both got bad experiences from each other. People from Northern Europe, on the contrary, live in the cult of France: culture, cuisine, even language... Their inherited nemesis having always being the Germans. Karin made no difference, and felt compelled to show me wrong. In a way, she managed. France is beautiful, and you don't need to go to Paris to discover it. France is not Paris, just like Italy is not Naples and USA isn't NY. Now I love France... And I try to live with the French.

One of the reasons why I wasn't mad to go to France, anyway, was the pure fact that Karin wanted to go there. You know, she had been married there.

***

She had been in Provence the first time at 19, just after graduating at the high school, and she fell in love with life there. She also fucked a number of boys there, and when one of them offered her to get married, she was fast to say yes... Just for the sake of staying there.

Jacques family was living in Valbonne, a dream village not far inland from Cannes, were in the early eighties there weren't too many tourists yet and which as a consequence wasn't that spoiled yet.

They opened a bar and started their life as an ordinary southern French couple. Karin being Karin, she never really intended her marriage to be something specifically binding: it was a tool to stay where she wanted to stay. Her husband on the other hand, wasn't the kind of guy most mothers hope their daughter to marry: he had friends which had good reasons to stay away from Gendarmerie, and was a gambler.

Two sharks married to each other can make very good friends or very bad enemies; very seldom they remain a faithful couple. Jacques started quite soon to loose the money there were earning with the bar; Karin became Miss Valbonne the very first time she took part to the context, and as such, got not only scores of clients for the bar, but also scores of admirers.

Soon enough, she started fucking a few of them while Jacques was out gambling. One of them, a certain Henri, turned out to have the biggest cock Karin had ever seen, which at the time still meant quite a lot to her.

She dropped the other lovers, and kept him as a fixed one, taking him at home to fuck each other stupid in her husband's bed each and every time he slipped out.

Valbonne wasn't Amsterdam. In a matter of weeks, the whole village knew Jacques was a cuckold. In a matter of months, Jacques knew it himself. A night in which he was supposed to get out to play he came back early instead, and surprised Henri ploughing his monster on his own bed into his wife's blond pussy.

Jacques got pissed, and called Karin a whore. Karin got pissed getting insulted, and called him a cuckold; her hubbie then slapped her in full face. Henri was more pissed than them all for getting ignored and having his fuck session spoiled, and being much bigger than the landowner just kicked Jacques' ass out of his own home. Not a good idea. Jacques came back an hour later with his friends, all of them provided with sticks, bats and knives.

Karin and Henri barely escaped in the night, got a lift to Vance and there took a train to Amsterdam. Due to tax reasons, Karin had constantly kept her money in Holland, including her own revenues from the bar, and when they arrived they had enough to live.

They got a small flat, and Karin quickly found herself a job as a dance teacher. Jacques friends came as far as Amsterdam to take Karin back to her scorned husband, found Henri at home and gave him a beating. The neighbours warned Karin before she came home, and just called the police. The three Frenchmen got arrested and sent back to France, and Karin got a quick divorce.

After that, Karin maintained Henri at home as her own personal stud for a while (he didn't speak English, not to mention Dutch, and made no effort to find a job of sort). They went often to France to see mutual friends both in Nice and in Guyenne. In summer, Karin also worked at the Opera de Nice as a ballerina - and even at Lido in Paris for a while - still out of love for France.

This continued until summer '85, when she got tired of maintaining a lazy bastard just for the sake of the size of his cock, and dumped him in Nice before going back to Amsterdam for good.

***

So, that was Karin's French Connection. I could understand she wanted to close that chapter of her life, but the pure idea to go back for our honeymoon to the place she had been married the first time sounded a bit odd to me. Anyway: I loved her, and I thought our relationship was far too strong to be worried. I proved right.

It was strange to discover she knew the road so well, considering she wasn't driving at all. But of course, she had been around a lot, both with her friends and with her lovers.

We left the highway from Italy at Cannes, and then drove north to Grasse, and then we turned to Valbonne, where we arrived at dusk. It was a small, but extremely cute spot, basically a village built around a small square, on which lay both the only two restaurants and Karin's old small bar.

We found there also a small, cheap and extremely characteristic hotel. I couldn't believe how cheap it was, being straight in the centre of such a tourist location, until I realised the furniture were back from the thirties... Including the bed springs and sheets.

It was very romantic, and also a bit noisy. There was kind of a music performance in the square, which meant barely thirty metres from our bedroom, and due to French habits the crowd wasn't to be expected to dissipate before late at night.

We gave up going to rest after settling down, and decided to hang around for a while. I had to admit I liked the place. It was cosy and sweet, absolutely clean and full with nice spots and viewpoints. I wasn't sad Karin wanted to show it to me the first night of our honeymoon. We got a drink and a salad in what used to be her own bar (centuries ago, she said), and then we went back to the hotel. It was almost 11 pm, but the night was still young in Valbonne, and there was far more crowd in the streets than when we had left our room. So we went exploring inside the hotel, which Karin knew to be very old.

Next to our room, there was a corridor with no rooms, which walls were covered by thick velvet curtains. We got curious and lifted them to see behind. It turned out there was a small glass door adjoining a small balcony straight over the main pedestrian street: the heavy curtain was supposed to keep both draft and noise from the hotel corridors.

From the balcony, we had a beautiful view both of the street and of the square, we enjoyed nice fresh air after the heat of the day, and we were in the darkest shadow, so people from down in the road could not see us even if we were right over their heads. Again, it was very romantic, and we took advantage, holding and kissing each other like the newlywed we were.

Karin's tongue played magic into my mouth, and in no time I was horny as a teenager. My hands started roaming over her body, looking for the parts her skimpy dress wasn't hiding enough. One lifted her skirt until was holding her tight buttock, the other got easily hold of a soft breast and went ahead playing with the quickly hardening nipple.

"Hmmm..." my bride moaned inside my mouth, and I knew she was on for a hot quickie. My mouth moved to her erected nipple and started suckling fondly, while my lower hand went from back to front to explore her crotch. Her knickers were damp.

"Oohhh..." she moaned, "Don't tease me. Fuck me! Oh fuck me, please..." Never disappoint the bride. My fingers played for a second with the clammy tissue covering her cunt, then moved it to the side and started searching amongst her pussy hair for the dripping slit. Her labia opened up at the first pressure, and my middle finger slipped in quite easily. "Uuhhh! Oh, yesss..."

I started quietly finger-fucking her, causing her excited body to squirm and shake. I was still sucking her nipple, and her head was wavering, the long hair flagging the cooling night air. It was Karin who stopped the foreplay, pulling free of my teasing hands and turning her shoulders to me.

"Take me, now!" she ordered, firmly. She bent down, holding on the balcony side fence and offering me her gorgeous butt. I opened my fly, lifted her dress over the ass cheeks and moved her knickers to the side, uncovering her very ready opening. We were trained enough by then, and I didn't need to aim the main armament to the target: I just held her hips and the spear hit right home. "Aawww..." Karin howled as my cock slowly sank into her warm and soggy pussy channel.

There wasn't much space, the balcony being little more than a classic French window: My wife was holding herself on the iron at the right side of it, and my ass was bumping back against the one on its left; on one side we had the open window door and the curtains adjoining back to the corridor, and on the other we had the fence and Valbonne nightlife beyond it, with its lights and sounds.

The mix of the drinks we got and the lust we achieved was combining into a blur of excitement, as I started thoroughly fucking my sexy, newly wedded wife. "Oh! Oh yes... Yesss! Do me... Do me like that. I like it... I like it... Oohhh..." Karin was truly horny, more or less oblivious of our precarious and exposed position, and her moans started getting louder and louder.

I wasn't worried, since the noise from the street was so loud the chance of anybody to hear her from downstairs was really low; of course, should somebody look up to our balcony, they could probably see something even through the shadow, but who looks up at night in a crowded street? I reached for her naked right breast and grabbed it, squeezing it fondly.

"Aahhh!" Karin yelled in pleasure, tossing her head to the window to try to watch at me. That very second, the curtain swung open just in front of her, and a man appeared. He froze, startled at what he saw. He was a guy our age, maybe slightly older, with a dark jacket over a white T-shirt and slacks, who probably heard Karin's moans, or maybe he was just curious as we were about the corridor curtain... Who cares?

I never really looked at his face, since I was busy fucking the shit out of my wife, but she had him right in front of her turned face. "Wow!" Karin smiled, incoherently adding in Italian, "Scusi?" She didn't wait to hear an answer to her pardon plea... Her free right hand went straight to his groin to check the guy's bulge, and in a blur I saw her starting opening his fly with firm, experienced movements. The guy said nothing. He stayed frozen in the door frame as Karin opened his trousers and got hold of his quickly swelling cock, and I just kept on fucking her, curious to see what was going to happen next.

Unsurprisingly, Karin started stroking the new cock and in a few seconds was holding a fully erected penis, ready for use. "Hmmmph..." she muttered, gobbling it into her mouth.

The man hissed and groaned his appreciation at my wife oral ministration, and positioned himself for enjoying the unexpected entertainment. Karin's position wasn't the most comfortable one, since she was basically blowing the guy on her right side while I was still fucking her from behind, so she wasn't on for a long event. Rather, it was a wild one.

In a moment, our uninvited guest started groaning loud and breathing fast, clearly taken aback by the violence of Karin's oral assault. Her hand was pumping and stroking really fast, and her gorge was sucking recklessly and noisily, and I could imagine the feeling of vacuum the guy had to suffer in his groin.

I slew down my assault on Karin's cunt, since I wanted to witness my wife blowjob to its end before taking her to the peak, and I was myself not going to last too long. Karin was merciless: the visibly man tried to hold it back, but there was no resisting her fierce blowjob. I saw him tense, stiff, and jerk his head, as his semen was brutally taken out of him.

I view my wife's throat working hard exacting the sperm out of the guy's testicles and swallowing directly into her stomach for a few, long and wild seconds, until the guy jerked of almost painfully, and stepped back. Karin smiled coyly, just a thin trickle of cum oozing out of her lips.

The man shook her head in disbelief, and disappeared back behind the curtain. I drove hard into Karin's body, causing her to bump ahead and grind against the fence, and she straightened her position to face my assault. "Oh my God!" she gasped only, while I pounded her mercilessly, "Oh my God... Oh my... Oh my... Oh my Gaaaawwd!!!"

I wasn't sure she was cumming too, even though she was twisting and shacking quite wildly at the rhythm of her own shrieks. I could not hold it any more, and she got her extra fun already: I felt my head and balls explode quite at unison, and held her tight by her jerking hips, to shoot home my hot, sticky cumload. I breathed heavily, drinking the fresh night air, as I finished emptying myself into my wife's still bumping belly.

Karin raised her head to smile at me, mockingly showing her tongue all dirty with the guy's cum. Then she swallowed it all.

***

The morning after, we met our unknown friend at breakfast. He was a little bit older than we thought, in his mid-forties, and was eating together with his wife.

Karin sat at our table in a way to watch at him and smiled, winking naughtily. When we left and they were still eating, she winked again, and showed him her tongue. The poor guy was so embarrassed, I had to run out to avoid laughing... When we had dinner the day before, Karin couldn't help asking about Jacques; but nobody knew anything about him.

I didn't think she wanted to see him... Not for the sake of seeing him at least. But I could understand she wanted to close that chapter of her life. So I wasn't surprised when she told me she wanted to see Fayance.

Fayance is another small town in Provence, as characteristic as Valbonne, about thirty kilometres west of it. It was Jacques' birthplace, and the spot where his family lived. His mother owned a restaurant there, and Karin felt like going and say hello to her mother-in-law, who actually used to be quite sweet to her. It was okay for me, considering we had all the time, and I did know nothing about Provence. Again, it was a beautiful – not to mention hot – day of July, and Karin wore another one of her very small dresses. Maybe she also wanted to remind her former husband what he lost, but hey, it was me the one who was enjoying the view, so I didn't complain.

The restaurant was still where Karin remembered it was; we parked next to it, and walked in front of it, but she didn't want to enter. "I want to show you something first," she told me. We walked uphill for a while. Valbonne is in a valley, while Fayance lay on top of a hill. There used to be a castle on top of it, but there were only a few remnants now. The most interesting spot was the foundation of a tower, which had been partly restructured into a very nice viewpoint.

It was the top of the hill, and you could enjoy a magnificent view of all the surroundings, like from a mountain; it was one of those rounded places where, on the rim of the fence, there were inscriptions showing all the landmarks you could see, with their names and brief descriptions. Even if it was basically the most interesting spot of the town, it was deserted. It was almost midday, and extremely hot: all tourists were downtown, looking for a fresh spot where to have a meal.

That is, all tourists except for us. We admired the beautiful landscape of Provence: from there, you could see as far as to the Mediterranean. It was hot, but also a bit windy, which helped resisting the heat. "It's wonderful..." I admitted. Karin smiled: "I was sure you'd like it. As far as I know, this is the best viewpoint in the whole of Provence."

I put an arm across her shoulders and pulled her to me. I felt the softness of her skin; her scent filled my nostrils with the power of an aphrodisiac. She smiled and held me back, making it clear she was ready and available. We kissed, and she grinded her naked thigh against my groin, to feel my growing erection. My fingers felt her hard nipples through the thin tissue of her dress. I had a look around: nobody; and I could see quite far away.

I fell on my knees, and pushed my face against her bare legs, kissing the smoothness of her inner thighs. Karin parted her legs as much as it was needed, and I started kissing my way up on her naked skin, lifting the elastic hem of the skirt. Her scent grew stronger, and more arousing. She wore no knickers: my nose found the rebel curls of her sparse pussy hair, and a second later my tongue found the opening between her labia. Karin shivered as my tongue made its way into her wet slit.

"Uhnnngg... Go on, there is nobody around... Oohhh..." My hands started moving along her thighs as I started slowly eating her pussy. I loved liking my wife's pussy, and she loved me doing it. After quite a training, we had gotten good enough that I managed to make her come almost on order. Karin held herself to the low wall of the tower and raised one leg until her foot rested on it, in order to allow me maximum access to her most intimate parts.

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