Pauline's Paris Chronicles

Suddenly I understood the Croydon sisters. Why not be a slut if you can fuck men like Mark and Rick? Moving to Utah and marrying both men suddenly had a certain appeal to me. Maybe Ann and Eve wouldn't mind, as long as they got theirs? Who am I kidding, I would have never enough of Rick and Mark's two cocks, or their talented mouths and tongues, not to mention their hands and fingers.

Holy shit, this was THE BEST Valentine's Day ever. Rick was fucking me perfectly, nice and firm, letting me know exactly who was in control. I love the submissive nature of the missionary position, and I loved being his fuck toy, pushing up to meet his every thrust. He fucked me like that, fiercely thrusting his cock inside me, until I exploded in the intense bliss that we call an orgasm.

Rick kept going, and going, and going -- what was he, the Eveready Bunny? I mean, not that I minded. Gary was always a little quick on the draw, and it was nice to have a man who seemingly could last forever. I loved having his hairy, muscular, masculine body on top of me. It made me feel secure in my blissed-out state, and yet we were still fucking, and I was still rising up to meet his every thrust.

Back in college, one guy had, once, fucked me for 45 minutes. I had no idea that a fuck could last that long! But it did, and it kind of became an endurance test, rather than an erotic fuck full of pleasure. He had been a one-night stand, while my boyfriend was on a trip. Yeah, at times I was like that. Fidelity was never my strong suit, so to speak.

I began to wonder if Rick too was one of those guys who could fuck for as long as he wanted to, when suddenly, he exploded inside me. I clutched the heart of my necklace as he filled me with his spunk. He must have been saving it up, or had hyper productive balls, because he donated a major amount to the cause! I was filled to overflowing.

I was in a daze, lying on the bed, having been transported off to la la land, when this giant shadow fell over my eyes. I could tell even with my eyes closed. I opened them and found Mark's handsome face, smiling at me. "It's my turn now, lover."

I thought about the gorgeous earrings on my two ears, and I touched them. I said, "Mmmm."

Mark kissed me, and once again I was in heaven. I thought about Ann Croydon, the Slut of Manilla, and how she could have this all the time, except not now, since for some unexplained reason Mark and Rick, the two husbands of the Indiana Croydon Sluts, were in Paris, France, with me.

Never, in my wildest imaginings, had I ever thought of taking back-to-back lovers. Sure, it happened on porn all the time, and quite a few of the back-to-back porn videos were my favorites. I know men preferred the ones where the girl is spit roasted, or double penetrated, but I'm just a simple girl, and having one man at a time, even if the one man is right after another man, is the recipe for this girl to have a good time.

And now, as Mark had just said, it's his turn. Mark is one of those guys who, when it's his turn, he takes it seriously, and enthusiastically, if you know what I mean. He gave me a repeat of my fuck of a lifetime from the night before, only this time I was good and sloppy due to the generous cum donation of his brother-in-law Rick.

This time, while I was almost comatose in endorphins, I saw Rick out of the corner of my eye, as Mark was ravishing me with his cock. He was taking pictures of Mark and me fucking! This was not good. Any X-rated pictures like that have a way of finding their way to the Internet, and I have a job and a career to think about!

I wondered however why I had never heard any clicking. Don't even digital cameras making a clicking noise? Maybe you can turn that off? Oh wait: He's taking a video! He's recording the entire fuck! Had Mark already done that during my fuck with Rick? Had that been what Rick was doing with the camera earlier, putting in some huge capacity memory chip?

That was as far as I got in my thoughts, however, because when you're being so royally fucked, it's kind of hard to think about anything else. Mark then suddenly pulled out, and told me to get on my hands and knees. Ooh, goody! Everyone knows that meant doggy style, and there's not a woman alive who doesn't love doggy style. Those dogs are smart little fuckers, aren't they?

Very expectantly I assumed the pose and Mark plowed right in, never the one to disappoint. Then, however, to my surprise and to my slight dismay, Rick waved his semi-hard cock at my mouth. Okay, I guess when I had praised the men earlier for not wanting porno type things like spit roasts, I was premature. This was turning into one hell of a Valentine's Day!

Rick's cock tasted of a mixture of my love juices and his cum. No hint of a urine smell, I was pleased to note. Sucking off a guy while being ravished from behind, however, is not easy, and I was completely new to this kind of activity, never having had a threesome before. Mark's cock still felt heavenly in my pussy, especially from behind, but I couldn't focus on it because I was sucking off Rick at my other end.

At least this meant that nobody was still filming me having sex. Oops -- strike that last remark. I saw the camera sitting on the bureau, aimed at the three of us, and its red light was on, too. Shit. Who was going to be the audience of this homemade porn? The Croydon sluts?

I'll deal with it later, I thought, as more urgent matters needed my attention, such as my next impending, no imminent, climax and holy cow, it's here! OMG, this is too much! I dropped Rick's cock and fell onto my tummy on the bed, as the waves rolled over me and drowned me in ecstasy.

Mark kept his long, thick, and hard cock inside me, but he stopped moving. Rick then got behind me and sort of above me, and he put his cock, covered in my saliva, at the entrance to my anus. Uh-oh. I'd been ass fucked before, of course, but never with another cock inside me at the same time! And the previous ass fuck had involved K-Y lubricant, and in a big way. In addition, I was embarrassed, because I was having, let's say, digestive issues, and was almost certainly a little messy back there.

I tried to squirm away but the men were having none of it, and Rick's cock kept pushing and pushing at my little brown flower as Mark resumed slowly fucking me. I was doomed. This was happening, Joanie -- roll with it! Oh God, Rick has his cock head inside me! I know what happens after that: the rest of the cock decides to come on in, too. And it did.

I was so full. You know, this was another accomplishment I could brag about! My old boyfriend David once bowled a 300 game. Gary used to brag about his three holes in one (yes, golf, not fucking), and even my younger brother once pitched a perfect game in Little League. Now my big sports accomplishment was going to be: Double Penetration in Paris! Hooray for me! You go, girl! Yeah, right.

The two men were experienced. They knew what they were doing as they coordinated their movement inside my two holes. An image of Ann Croydon being DP'ed as we, the cognoscenti, call it, flashed through my brain. Of course! The two brothers-in-law probably did this routinely to the two sluts of Manilla. Now it was my turn, and while the cock in my ass hurt a bit, the sensations were all new, and I was getting into it. I was getting seriously with the program, so to speak.

I lay on the bed, head down and ass up, as the two men had their ways with me at the same time, and probably Rick's new camera recorded the action. Wow. As more proof of their experience with this little game, the two men actually exploded inside me at the same time! I didn't have yet another orgasm, but I had bragging rights about having been DP'ed. Something to tell my granddaughter when she turned 18: I remember when I, your granny, got DP'ed in Paris, by two men married to the two sluts of Manilla, Indiana. An experience to aspire to, don't you think?

We all three collapsed, finally, and the men made no movement to leave. Were they moving in, or something? Mark poured us all some more calva (no, this time not there!) and we drank and talked, and I thanked them at least five more times not only for their extravagant gifts, but also for giving me my most memorable Valentine's Day ever.

The men spent the night, and while it was totally predictable, they nevertheless each wanted a good morning fuck, and by George, they each got one. Then they had to rush to make their train to London.

Just before they left I nervously asked them what they were going to do with all the pictures and videos they took? They both smiled, and said, "We'll use them to inspire Ann and Eve. We also have a group of guys we play poker with, you know?"

I don't know why, but I asked, "Do you ever bet a good time in the sack with your wives, as poker stakes?"

"Only when the counter bet is a good time with their wives!" Mark said, with a mischievous grin.

"Does that ever happen?" I asked, even though I thought I knew the answer.

"All the time, Pauline. All the time," Rick said.

"She's Joanie, Rick," Mark corrected.

"Well, for me, she's Wonder Woman," Rick said, and the two men rushed out, in order to make their TGV train to London.

The last words I heard, were, "Love these French women," coming from Rick.

"She's American, Rick, She's a Hoosier," Mark replied as they hurried down the spiral staircase.

"She'll always be French to me," Rick said.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Mark said, as they left my building. I went to the window and watched them in the street, forgetting I was still naked. Rick turned back to look, and snapped a picture of my freshly ravished, naked body in the window. I smiled for the camera and gave a little wave. Then I turned around, boobs bouncing, and helped myself to a large glass of Calvados, regretting that I couldn't slurp it from my own pussy. That must taste grand, I thought, as I fingered my new gold, Cartier earrings, and my new gold, Cartier heart necklace.

You know, maybe when I'm done with France I should go visit my grandmother in Shelbyville. I haven't seen her in quite some time, now.

************

A few weeks later I got a message from my one true love, onetime heart throb, my David, that he was coming to France, and would I be willing to see him, maybe for a coffee, a drink, or a dinner?

Me: Is Rebecca coming with you? I texted back before saying if I'd be willing.

David: No. Rebecca and I are divorced

M: Sorry to hear that

D: Yeah, thanks. Saturday okay?

M: That's soon! When are you coming?

D: Whenever you say it's okay for me to come

M: How long ago did you and Rebecca divorce? I was worried this was a rebound fling with an old lover. That was not my cup of tea.

D: Two years ago. This is not a rebound thing, don't worry. I was in London and made these two friends, Mark and Rick, and they couldn't stop talking about this wonderful "chick" they met in Paris, Pauline.

David always did see right through me with alacrity.

M: Oh?

D: You're wondering how I made the connection to you, aren't you?

M: Well, yes, quite frankly

I was dreading it, actually.

D: They showed me some amazing pictures, Joanie. Or should I say Pauline?

M: I see.

I paused for a bit to collect myself.

M: Saturday will be fine, and calling me Pauline is fine, too. Do you still like Austrian art? The interwar period? There's an exhibit here getting rave reviews. Also, the movie Bombshell just opened in Paris?

D: I still love you, Joanie.

M: I know, David. Call me Pauline; Pauline symbolizes the new me.

D: The one in the pictures?

M: I'll see you Saturday, and don't bring a friend!

D: Yes, I saw those pictures, too. I can't wait to see you!

M: Yes, I imagine why. I'll wear my green dress for you.

D: Yes, I saw that picture, too. Hubba, Hubba, can't wait!

M: Call me when you get to town. Bye, David

David, oh David, the love of my life. Where have you gone, my David, my love; why did you forsake me? And why come back now, to turn my life even more upside down? What's a girl to do? What will David expect? After seeing those pictures, I couldn't possibly live up to his expectations; and do I even want to? Of course, I do. I still love the bastard.

I remembered Jack Reacher's maxim, from the novels of Lee Child: Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. Now if I could only figure out which was the best outcome, and which was the worst?

*********The End********

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