October of '22

This story is best read after "Summer of '12" and "October of '17"; some of this story may be unclear without that background.

PART I -- PRELUDE TO TRAVEL

The slim blonde lay naked on her side, pale cream skin set against the glaring white, crisp hotel sheets. Her golden hair, beautifully cut, fell in a muddled disorder on the fluffed down pillows cradling her back. She was long-limbed, lean and athletic, a body of clean and elegant lines yet her chest was adorned with middling-large breasts of ripe naturalness, and her hips were graced with a soft curve.

Her long, toned legs were stretched out; her mid-section was partially covered by an expansive and well-stuffed down pillow, though anyone staring through the uncurtained window would have guessed that she was waxed smooth and bare. Her feet lay on the tangled brown and pale cream Pratesi duvet puddled at the bottom of the bed. Her feet also nestled against the feet of a tall younger man. He was tall and muscled, reddy-brown hair setting off the physique of a rugby player that betrayed no fat, which was surprising given that he was now a number of years out of MBA school and making his way successfully at a large hedge fund, with all the long hours and dining that entailed. He was smiling a white, radiant smile as he stroked the flank of the Blonde with the back of his hand. His penis had swelled into a half-hard, half-a-foot slab of flesh. The dark red cockhead was bulging from his foreskin.

A late afternoon sun streamed in through the hotel window, across a window-side table bearing a lamp, bottles of water and a champagne bucket hosting a depleted bottle of Bollinger. The interplay of these with the sun cast a jumble of shadows on the bed. The incessant roar of Midtown traffic was their soundtrack. He was grinning and she returned his regard with an open smile that lit up an already lovely and high-cheekboned face

They were murmuring at each other.

"And how was that first post-Covid clandestine fuck?" she asked.

He sat up and replied. "Oh, much better than remembered. Working from home certainly interferes with playing away from home".

"That was the longest I have been with my husband for a decade. I feel sorry for his mistress. I think she is quite needy."

"Ah well, the plague is over. Let the sex begin again." He said it mockingly.

She pushed him onto his back and smiling, moved to kneel over his penis. She was resting on two hands, her shapely ass pointing at the window, and she bent forward to take the head into her mouth. She swirled her tongue around his glans and then slowly inhaled him, half an inch at a time. His rod stiffened and she stopped about half way, with a discernible three or four inches of shaft between her lips and his tightly trimmed groin.

Her mouth slowly descended up and rose, slickening him. She removed herself to leave a glistening and rigid rod pointing at a slight angle towards his head. As she pulled away a slender tendril of saliva connected his cock to her mouth. It snapped as she rose to sit upright on her knees. She pivoted over him, balancing from her left knee, and then straddled him, her right hand gripping the top third of his cock as if it were a golf club. She positioned it carefully, and then slid onto him in a fluid and steady motion. She placed both her hands on his chest, holding him in place, and began to rock back and forth. One of his hands cupped an asscheek, and the other cupped a breast, its fingers positioned to twirl a nipple. She began to finger her clit as she rocked. Their breathing intermingled with traffic noises. The intensity of her self-fingering picked up as he bucked his hips up, the better to ride his cock into her. She came first, collapsing onto his chest. He continued to buck into her as his hand stroked her suddenly more exposed assbud. He spurted into her perhaps half a minute later.

They were silent and unmoving for a minute, and then she climbed off, a slick of semen visible on her waxed pussy lips. She returned to lie on her side, facing him.

"Technically, I could be your mother."

"If you were a hillbilly" he responded. "Technically, you are irresistible and exciting."

Their affair had continued intermittently since meeting on an island where they were both summering. It had traversed his graduation, MBA and start at a large multi-strategy hedge fund, where he was seemingly thriving.

"Where are you travelling next, Ms. Lawyer Rainmaker?" he asked her, humor concealing slight jealousy of her status as a sought-after partner at a white shoe law firm.

"Belgium. Next week. For a media deal." She replied lazily.

"I am in Paris. Is your husband away next weekend? Perhaps you could stay over and we could meet in Brussels?"

She looked at him pensively and then laughed. "So you'd to parade me around Europe? Just sex, or is there more to this plan?"

"It's my birthday, after all." And he smiled his dazzling white smile.

PART II -- IT'S MY BIRTHDAY

The hotel had been built during an era where time and budget were plentiful. At the end of his suite, generous length open windows looking towards the Grande Place admitted street noise and a gentle breeze.

He was seated at the table, intent on a Zoom call, when she arrived to knock gently at the door. He turned the camera off and, face still concentrated, strode to the door to admit her with a kiss. He returned to the desk, settled in the chair and flipped the video back on.

She hung an elegantly tailored Vicuna coat and wheeled her bag to the dressing area. She draped herself, legs up, on the sofa and watched him. This flustered him, and his face reddened ever so slightly. She was wearing a crisp white blouse under a cashmere cardigan. She unbuttoned the cardigan. She began to play with the loose double strand of pearls. He carefully kept his eyes locked on the screen.

She stood and walked to the phone. She spoke into it in a soft voice. She was speaking French, but the words were indistinct.

He was now half watching her, half watching the video conference.

She wandered out of his view and into the densely marbled bathroom. He barely heard the soft swish of water as she began to run a bath. She slowly walked to a point four feet in front of his desk and stood before him. He looked up. She shrugged out of her cardigan and tossed it onto the sofa. She kicked her Ferragamo pumps off. This done she wriggled out of the soft flannel A-line, which fell to circle her feet. She delicately lifted it by hooking her toes under the fabric and then flicked it to the sofa. She began unbuttoning her shirt at the cuffs, then continuing to undo the other buttons with teasing slowness. When she was down to matching dove grey silk panties and bra (the silk caressing and outlining the softness of her c-cup breasts) she put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow at him. She mouthed "can they see me in the mirror?", pointing at the glass behind him. He started and then relaxed as he saw that his head was blocking the view. Regardless, he angled his computer to avoid showing the call any unplanned views.

She wriggled the straps off her shoulders and then reached behind to unhook her bra. The bra fell away. She hooked her thumbs in her panties and slid them down, bending at the waist. She stood for his view and approval. Her body was toned, lean and athletic yet she had soft and rounded breasts and the slightest gentle sway at her hips. It was the body of a woman someone in their 20s would be happy to have (it was kept in shape through diligent exercise).

Below her flat tummy was a smoothly waxed and tightly defined slit flanked by nicely padded cuntlips. He was staring. She raised her eyebrows again. "I can't" his eyes pleaded: he pointed at his screen with a nod of his head.

She walked away from him to the bathroom, her bum gently swaying under his gaze.

He continued the call. Some minutes later room service announced itself at his door with a ring and, after ten seconds, a second ring. Her heard swishing and dripping and she emerged from the bathroom, her long blonde hair knotted into a low and loose bun. She was wrapped in a large and implausibly plush towel. The towel was awkwardly wrapped around her, held together top left with a loose tuck in. The top of her cleavage was on show, as was a length of long, toned and glistening legs. She padded to the door to admit room service. A lightly bearded man of perhaps Balkan origin wheeled a trolley bearing a bottle lodged in an ice bucket and two silver domes into the room. They spoke softly and the waiter offered her the leather portfolio containing the bill, holding it slightly closer to himself so she had to lean forward.

Both men in the room watched intently as she took the bill. The act of receiving and opening the portfolio loosened her towel. As she took the proffered pen it unknotted and slipped to the floor, giving a full frontal eyeful to the waiter. She finished signing and bent to pull up the towel up in front of her to cover her breasts and pussy. This was the fastest route to some ending full exposure, but it still left quite an expanse of flesh on show. The waiter backed away, keeping his face towards her to soak in a last view. She spun holding the towel to her breasts, flashing her pussy as she turned and then, her bare ass facing the wide-eyed waiter, re-wrapped herself in the towel. The waiter bowed, turned and left.

She turned, winked at her lover seated the desk, and slipped silently into the bathroom.

His call ended and he walked over to the bathroom, a prominent tent at his groin.

"That was a nice tip for the waiter" he remarked.

"Maybe it was also a nice present for a birthday boy who likes seeing me naked in front of other people. This worked out well. I am checked in to another room in this hotel and got the same floor."

He walked closer to the bath. She beckoned him closer with her finger. "Undress birthday boy."

He did, kicking his clothes behind him. He wriggled out of his boxers last, freeing an erect cock that sprang up as though it was magnetically drawn to the Blonde in the bath.

She motioned him to rest one knee on the bathtub's flat marble surround. Her mouth was at cock level, and she opened it to welcome him in. She angled her head a bit, almost to corkscrew his cock deeper into her mouth. Mirrors lined the wall, and he stiffened as he saw several angles of her blowjob at once.

She was taking him deeper than normal, tilting sideways and angling her head back to advance down his shaft. She pulled, off, saliva dripping on his shaft and onto her chin. She wiped her jaw with a wet hand. She began again and this time rotated her mouth down almost the full length of his cock. Her left hand held the back of his right leg and buttock, stroking up and down. His face betrayed the joy he was feeling. He moved a hand to the back of her head and gently tried to pull her deeper onto his rigid penis. She gagged a bit and backed off, though she stayed on his shaft as she breathed heavily through her nose and closed her eyes. He kept his hand there, knotted in her hair. She tried to remove it, but he buffed her hand away and held her on his cock as he stiffened. Her eyes widened as he held her onto his pulsing rod. He spurted into her once explosively, twice, paused and then trickled out the remainder of his sperm load into her mouth. He pulled his messy cock out, grinning idiotically, dribbling saliva and sperm onto her chin as he did. She looked up at him and opened her mouth to show him the milky white puddle on her tongue. She closed and swallowed. "You taste of asparagus." She smiled.

"Clean me up."

"What's go into you?" It was playful, but there was a sudden wariness in her voice.

He pleaded with his eyes and she relented. She never did that -- she rarely let him cum in her mouth -- but now she leaned forward and licked his half-stiff penis with long tongue almost like an ice cream cone. She took the still engorged flesh in her mouth and swirled, which caused him to moan.

Suddenly a bit weak-kneed, he stepped back and collapsed onto the leather top stool by the vanity, his slick penis flopped over between his open legs.

"OK. You got your porn queen act. Satisfied?"

His look was tender and yet wanton. He gazed at her, as she sank to her neck in the water.

"How adventurous are you feeling tonight?" he asked her.

"No underwear? Anal?" She was playing with herself under the water.

"Oh, more than that."

PART III -- I AM NOT CERTAIN

They were seated in the bar, her long legs emerging from a woolen wrap dress that highlighted exposed cleavage. The soft fabric swelled over breasts that seemed uncontained by a bra. Nipples poked forward.

"I am not certain I have bought this idea yet, lover boy."

"We'll go and see what the vibe is. We can do as much or as little as you like. I admit "Nuit de Soumission" can sound scary, but it may turn out to be boring or depressing. It may be fun. We can leave whenever. I have a dinner reservation at 10, but they said we can eat in the bar if we arrive early."

"Still..." Her voice was sounding dubious. Her face was looking dubious. She was visibly nervous, which was unlike her.

He smiled as brightly and reassuringly as he could. He almost murmured assurances. "High entry fee, so they may be perverts but they will be rich." "Floor show and bar..." "...no need to go to the back"... "couples only or single women"...recommended by a friend".

"Since when do you have friends like that?!" She spoke loudly enough to earn a glance from the bartender.

He smiled and pleaded and, after finishing the second vodka, she finally relented.

It was a short cab ride to a leafy neighbourhood of bustling bourgeois restaurants and expensive cars clogging the on-street parking. The address was nondescript and the entrance an unmarked, highly varnished double wood door.

An attractive middle-aged women greeted them from behind an ebony desk with rococo legs. He paid the entry fee of several hundred Euros in cash. They were motioned to an old-fashioned seeming coat check. He pocketed one brass tag for both their coats.

They emerged into a high-ceilinged room defined by a long, mirror-backed bar on one side and a row of dark brown leather booths hugging the facing wall. Midway down the row of booths was a wide archway with stairs descending half a floor towards a room with a softer golden light.

The two couples at the bar looked at them. A woman with shoulder-length brown hair and bright red lips, seated farthest from them, was wearing just a leather mini-skirt. One hand was touching them farther from her, her large breasts topped with large brown nipples swaying forward.

Other couples sat in the booths. Murmuring over their drinks. One stood up, drained their glasses and walked hand in hand to the archway.

He smiled at her, settled her at a booth and ordered vodka martinis at the bar in his workaday French.

The couples at the bar talked to him as he waited, glancing at her several times. He motioned her to join them, but she shook her head. She studied the couples. One man was bearded and tall, perhaps two metres. One was shorter and heavier set and bald; he exuded a strange confidence. The brunette with the large breasts was giggling, and the other woman with a reddish bob, joined in. Her lover left them and returned to her with the drinks.

"I'd lie if I said I wasn't nervous." She told him.

"Me too." he said.

"Then why do you look so damned excited, above and below your belt?"

They sipped their martinis. The couples at the bar rose and exited left down the archway. They waved as they passed.

She looked at him, her face suddenly decisive, and gulped down the martini. He joined her in downing the drink.

They walked slowly to the archway. She glanced at him. He was looking excitedly ahead.

The steps descended into a carpeted area. The two women from the couples at the bar were before them, now naked and barefoot, and were handing their clothes to a mustachioed attendant who had placed each set of garments in a polished wooden box identified with a brass plate. In turn he offered each woman a leather necklace, a collar really, with a small brass tag bearing the matching number and a small brass hook. The attendant was quite matter of fact as these two women, both late 30s, stood naked before him. The brunette was waxed with quite fleshy cuntlips. The reddy-brown haired woman had high b-cup breasts and red, tightly trimmed pubic hair barely concealing her mound. Her back was appealingly freckled.

The men were still clothed. The attendant handed them short brown leather leashes, which they clipped onto the collars their women now sported.

"I don't like this... this is a terrible power dynamic". Her body, stopped on the bottom stair, was quivering with hesitation. His hand was at the small of her back. He whispered in her ear "we will give it a try. We can walk around, I'll get excited at you being shown off and then we can leave. Relax."

The mix of pleading and vodka worked enough to push her down to the space suddenly vacated by the two couples. The attendant was disappearing into a small side-room, the two wooden boxes piled atop each other. He returned with a box for her, a collar and leash coiled neatly within. He set it on the table and indicated it to her.

She looked at the man with the mustache. He had heavily lidded eyes. His uniform was the same as the bartender: red vest and black trousers and shirt. She noticed, weirdly, that his shoes were well polished.

"Oh well" she said, and began to undress.

Her lover was grinning ear to ear. "Second time today" he said.

"I was much more in control the first time" she replied. Her face was part nervousness, part growing excitement. "I will admit that seeing you this turned on has an effect. But there are limits... right?"

He nodded back at her. "It's ok. You have ultimate control here. This is fantasy meets reality with an option to pull out." He smiled at her.

Mustache watched their discussion impassively. He continued to study her as she kicked off shoes and then untied and opened her belted wrap dress. She was quite naked underneath. Her pink nipples were stiff and her chest rose and fell with slightly excited breathing. The attendant bent to pick up her shoes, openly assessing her pussy as he did. He placed her shoes in the wooden box and handed her the collar. She handed over the dress. Her lover was given the leash. Hesitating, she raised her arms, causing her breasts to point prominently, and put the leather necklace around her neck. She gulped, smiled at her lover, and then caught the eye of mustached attendant. He was soaking her nakedness in. Greedily, but silently.

Her lover attached the leash. The thin leather drooped and felt cool against her shoulder. It ran over her shoulder to his hand, the short length meaning she was slightly behind him, her right shoulder in line with his left. The carpet gave way to shiny wooden floor, warmed by subfloor heating. A rounded corridor lit by sconces opened left and right into a series of rooms.

The first room to the right had a raised platform in a shiny white surface holding cushions and the woman with reddy brown hair, who was being penetrated by a skinny man of caramel complexion with a long, thin, slightly curved cock. He was holding the woman's legs wide by the ankles, splaying her into a 'V'. An audience was made up of the woman's husband, the other couple and a single woman with long and straight jet-black hair standing apart in a leather jumpsuit, who was rubbing the groin of the reddy-haired woman's husband.

"Oh" was all she could say as she took in this unexpected sight. She stood to watch but her lover gently tugged her along. "Let's see what else there is" he mouthed to her. She widened her eyes and pointed to the sex platform, but he shook his head.