Memorable M?nage-?-Trois

I was a graduate student working on my thesis and a few part-time jobs. One of them was the position as a lecturer in a "continuing education" evening class, with about 60 students that the courage to juggle work, family, and school. In order to give students a greater degree of flexibility over their time, I tended to base a large percentage of the overall grade on a term paper rather than an end-of-term exam. I had the experience that it kept students interested and provided them with a writing sample they often needed for subsequent applications.

Among my students was a recently retired couple, both in their early sixties. They had a keen mind, a great sense of humour, and contributed a great deal to the discussions that took place during lectures. I thoroughly enjoyed their presence in the classroom. Needless to say, I spent a considerable amount time with them structuring their term papers, guiding them with the relevant literature, and focusing their thoughts on the questions they really wanted to analyse in their papers.

From their demeanour and their way of dressing, they portrayed themselves as confidently bourgeois, generally conservative in their views but secure enough to remain open-minded and curious. François, tall and quite athletic for his age, typically wore a suit, a (blue) shirt with a refreshingly colourful tie, wearing a golden ring with his family's crest on his right hand. He had thin, slightly receding grey hair, bright blue eyes, and golden-rimmed glasses. He smiled easily and warmly. Renée was larger but with proportions that suited her size, a women that would have delighted and inspired old Mr Rubens. She truly made the most of her figure, supporting her large, very motherly breasts with bras that help to defy gravity. Normally, she wore relatively plain blouses, allowing others to enjoy a little décolletage, and astonishingly well-tailored trousers that flattered her figure immensely. Her hair was dyed an ash-blond, which gave her hazel-coloured eyes a particular shine. These, together with her very sensuous lips and immaculate teeth intrigued me from the first time I saw the two of them.

During our last discussion before Renée and François had to hand in their respective term papers (and, by that time, their papers had been in a terrific state), they enquired about my summer plans. For the most time, I needed to spend summer in the library and, hopefully, finish the second of my three chapters. However, I wanted to take off a week or ten days to clear my head but did not have any time to make plans. Without too much thought, I said that much — and I was surprised and intrigued when they invited me to come and stay in their chalet about two hours north in the mountains. Without any alternative plans, I had wanted to accept their kind invitations immediately, but I needed to put them off until I would have finished grading all the term papers and posting their results. However, I suggested to meet for a coffee at that time, which they keenly accepted.

That way, I knew, I would not run into any conflict-of-interest situations, and I felt more comfortable. Also, it allowed Renée and François to re-assess their invitation without any embarrassment. Three weeks later, the two of them promptly showed up at the coffee bar (I had been reading a newspaper, not being entirely sure this was meant seriously). We talked about the term papers and my comments, about politics and a number of other topics before — by that time, somewhat surprisingly — the question was posed whether I had considered their offer and felt any interest in joining them in their chalet. I still did, and they gave me directions to meet them about two weeks' later.

When I arrived, early in the afternoon a fortnight later, they were outside, in shorts and t-shirts, setting the table and preparing the grill. I was given a glass of deliciously cold beer, and we spent a relaxing evening outside on the porch chatting. At close to midnight, they showed me the room, wishing me sweet dreams. Not only because of the heat, I took a quick shower and went to bed naked.

The next morning, I woke up by the sounds of birds singing outside and Renée preparing breakfast. I saw that my door was leaning half open (even though I had thought I remembered closing it at night), catching a glimpse of Renée's having a coffee in her hand. Seeing that I was awake, she came towards my room, knocked, and offered me the steaming, hot, very delicious cup of double espresso, adding nonchalantly that she had taken the liberty of putting my clothes into the laundry, storing away my bag downstairs in the basement.

Having had a couple of sips of coffee, slowly waking up, I realised I had absolutely nothing to wear. I went into the bathroom, but the towels, too, had been washed. While I stood there wondering what to do, François came by, smiling and saying that I should not worry. Both of them, he said, were naturalists and had naked people over periodically. I admitted that I had always enjoyed nude beaches, adding that I had never really had any friend who really enjoyed this experience. He looked at me, nodded his head and left.

Without alternatives, I took a shower and my remaining coffee and, still a little wet, went outside. To my surprise, both of them were awaiting me in front of a delicious breakfast table ... and completely naked. Renée was quite stunning in fact, she had very large breasts that, even though they were sagging quite a bit (which, for some reason, I sort of enjoy), they had an almost perfect shape. Her skin was soft and nicely tanned. François struck me as being in a really good shape, his stomach and chest muscles were clearly discernible and well-trained. He was uncut, relatively well-endowed — and both of them had closely trimmed their pubic hair (which I find immensely sexy).

Renée sat down across from me, which gave me a perfect view of her gorgeous breasts, while François took the chair to my right. We had a nice but odd sort of breakfast — no word of any sort was mentioned that all three of us were naked. We talked about the weather, which continued to be sunny and hot, about summer, the delight of freshly-made croissants (the fact that she did them early in the morning impressed me considerably), and innocuous topics of all sorts. Once we cleared the table (I helped), Renée came with a bottle of sun screen, insisting that we all needed some protection. She began by carefully rubbing François, first his back, his behind and legs — and afterwards his face, his chest, stomach, his legs, as well as his masculinity. I was intrigued by their openness, even more so when I saw that he reacted positively to her touch, having developed quite a hard-on. Renée, apparently enjoying this immensely — she certainly made sure that he would not be burnt between his legs.

"It's your turn," she then said, asking me to lie down.

I had already started to feel a little randy by watching the two of them, but this was nothing compared to the sensation of having her apply sun lotion on my naked skin. Very sensuously, she oiled my skin, massaging the liquids into all my pores, on my neck and back, and on my bottom, with her fingers softly teasing my anus. I was lying on my stomach, pressing my hard-on on the pillows, closing my eyes in delight, when, suddenly, I also felt François' hands rubbing oil on my legs. His warm hands went up my legs, massaging the muscles expertly, with his fingers inadvertently touching my balls. Feeling four hands touch my skin, intensified the sensation incredibly.

When turning over, Renée stood right at my face, a little to the right, leaning over while pouring oil over my chest and stomach. In so doing, her breast were touching my cheeks, almost caressing them, while François oiled and massaged my feet. Renée moved forward, rubbing the sun screen on my stomach, while her pussy was just centimetres away from my face, devouring the scent. While François had continued to massage my legs, I could not resist to softly kiss Renée's thighs and her pubic hair, first cautiously and carefully, but she soon gave me to understand that I was to continue. She began to move her hips rhythmically, moving so that she would ultimately be sitting on my face, with my lips and tongues caressing and kissing her passionately — only to be topped by the sensation of warm lips felt lips around my cock, and a mouth that sought the rhythm of my hips.

I felt Renée's moisture flowing, her lust increasing, but so did mine. François was giving me an incredible blowjob, deep-throated me in a way I never experienced before, not leaving any part unkissed. When Renée came closer to climaxing, she pushed François away to suck my cock herself, while he started to kiss, and later put his tongue up, my anus. This was, without a doubt, the most incredible experience of my life — even before he took one of his oily fingers inserting it up my bottom. I was "muffled" as it was, simply intoxicated by her juices, and could not, did not want to, react when feeling his dick making its way slowly up my arse. He had put oil all over it, and it glided right into me. For the first time of my life, I've been fucked up my ass — and even if it hurt somewhat, it felt incredibly unbelievable! I gave in to the pleasure completely and came into her mouth with full force. Once Renée let go, François stopped fucking me, he came towards me and jacked off right over my face. Almost naturally, I opened my mouth for him and awaited his load. He was head on, and — delirious and exhausted — I accepted his cum, still surprised by the fact that I did not mind the salty taste. Renée looked at me and kissed me, with cum coming out of our mouths.

"I'm glad you came," she whispered, giving me a last deep kiss.