She couldn’t catch her breath. He’d been gone for half an hour. There was nothing to distract her but the occasional muted comings and goings of hotel traffic: the whir of luggage wheels on plush carpets, muffled cell phone conversations and the occasional laughter of partners entering and exiting the secret world of their rooms.

Who would believe what she was doing in hers?

Like a Catholic schoolgirl, she sat in the straight-backed chair that had been tucked in the corner of the Parisian suite. Meant mostly for decoration, the light blue velvet of the piece felt soft and warm on her naked bottom but there was no leaning back, her rigid posture reminded her of punishment or the anticipation of it. And while she was expectant, she looked forward to something closer to pleasure.

The room was fragrant with the open bottle of champagne resting in its sweating bucket. He’d ordered it on the way up from dinner and laughing, they’d shared a glass as she sat on the edge of the tub and watched as he flicked away the tiny stubble from her pussy with a straight-edged razor. The boyish intensity he’d brought to his task amused her and fifteen years into their marriage, she was grateful for his unflagging interest in her body.

Right now, it was on fire.

Before leaving, he’d had her turn her back to him, put her hands on the bed, and stick her ass out. He’d gotten down on his knees and spent agonizing minutes tracing his fingers over her lips and the rising lump between them. When she flared in response, his tongue took up the work. His pace was slow, methodical, but the patterns were varied, always a step ahead of her patience. Then just as she was getting ready to cum, he stopped. Pulled on a pair of jeans and said he had a “surprise.”

Grabbing the chair from the corner, he’d told her to sit down, and then he drew all the curtains. Frustrated by her raging excitement, her stomach fluttered as the elements of a plan revealed themselves. He took a black, silk scarf from the night table and put it over her eyes.

“What’s this?”

“A surprise. No talking.”

Blinded, naked and sinfully aroused, she listened to him work. Glass placed on wood, matches struck, the burning sulfur crept to her nose. The covers were ripped from the bed, a closet door opened. She could hear her purse get dropped into a drawer. For a moment he turned on the mini speaker, adjusted the volume, turned it off, then walked out the door without saying another word.

She’d been like this ever since. Dying for release, more from his tongue or maybe his cock but something soon.  Past history of his plans promised her an exquisite experience but she was close to her breaking point and tempted to finish the job herself.

From the hallway, she could hear the elevator arrive at their floor. This must be him. The elevator doors opened and he said something in French, his accent perfect. She was limited to “merci” and “au revoir.” Whatever he said was met with great approval as several men burst into laughter. It rolled down the hallway and sent a shiver through her. It felt deliciously naughty to be sitting like this with so many men close by. She couldn’t help but put her fingertip on the throbbing spot between her thighs. If they only knew, she sighed.

The lazy motion of her finger wiggling back and forth took her focus. Still, yearning for release, the nearness of her man promised her that satisfaction was close at hand.

“Nous sommes arrives” she heard from the hallway. Snapped back to reality but still blindfolded, she realized that it was not just her husband’s footsteps that had come to her room.  Like a gunshot, the door swung open, freezing her in a naked panic. Her hands whipped up to the blindfold and fumbled for the knot behind her head. He’d tied it so tight.

“Ah, ah, ah,” her husband cautioned. In her darkness, she could feel him circling behind her. The door had not closed. For a moment she could feel its openness like a bottomless chasm of the unknown, yawning enormously in front of her. It frightened her but pulled her psychically to the edge of its thrilling call.

“Nothing to worry about, sweetie.” His lips soft and his breath hot on her ear. “This is going to be fun.” She felt his mouth on her cheek, with a gentle tug he sucked in a delicious bit of her skin, held it for a moment, and then released.

“Viens chez-nous, mes amis, entre s’ils vous plait.”

She could hear their steps and in her heightened state of awareness, she could feel the presence of the men. How many, she had no idea, more than two, she knew that. It was difficult for her to breathe. In a hopelessly inadequate attempt at modesty, she crossed her arms trying to cover her jutting nipples. For a moment, she pressed her thighs together to hide her exposed self but the sensation was too much. Her legs parted. With her husband’s familiar hand on her shoulder, she dropped her arms in a move that felt more than a little prideful.

“Oh, la la.”

“Magnifique, Jacques.”

“Elle est parfait, Monsieur. Vraiment parfait.”

In the moment, the language barrier was not that high. She was naked in front of a group of men. She knew what she looked like. The effect was unmistakable in any language.

Gamely, she embraced the situation. “Merci, messieurs.”

She tried to take a deep breath, her breasts lifted and as she released somewhat raggedly, she felt the whole room sigh with her.

Her husband laughed first, then the men and then her. It felt good. Turning to her husband she continued to laugh, felt his hand under her chin and then his lips covered her mouth. He tasted like champagne and chocolate. His tongue slid over her teeth and along her lips as his hand stroked her throat. Her heart was whirling like a bat on a summer’s night but she didn’t want it to stop, she didn’t want to calm down.

Unfamiliar hands gently pushed her knees apart. Slowly, they came to her. Fingers along the inside of her thighs, a warm palm on her stomach, a twitchy tongue on one nipple, a tugging mouth on the other. No one spoke, she heard breathing, wordless, expression. From behind her, the room filled with the heroin chic strains of the Velvet Underground, the hypnotic rhythm orchestrating the movement around her. Surreal, animal and hot.

On her school-girl chair, she was the center of delicious attention. These foreign men got down to the business of learning her body with patient inquisitiveness. And while her pussy burned to be filled, she was left to ache and want. Though hands brushed across her clit with maddening regularity, they dutifully avoided her swollen sex.

“Alors, messieurs. On va au lit.”

“Ca va.”

“Oui, Jacques.”

“Bien sur.”

Hands slid under her thighs, strong arms snaked around her back. Her feet lost contact with the plush rug and she weightlessly rode to the enormous bed, her blindfold keeping her ignorant of who carried her, who touched her. Whose thrilling touch set her afire.

On her back, the sheets were divine, silky as she moved in response to the strange hands and their work. 

Now, her feet were held aloft and firmly massaged, thumbs running along her arches, fingers pinching her toes and warm tongues running between them. Held like this, her inner thighs were visited by exploring mouths. They crept at an agonizing pace towards her bald, swollen snatch that twitched in anticipation of their arrival.

“Oh, come on guys, please!” She whispered.

For a moment they stopped, lips detouring from their pilgrimage.

“Non,” her husband commanded, “pas maintenant.” Again, the hot mouths traveled to within an inch of her want only to return to the inside of her knee and slowly begin to work their way down again. Like a petulant teenager, she twisted from side to side, thrust her hips toward them and pouted with epic drama.

“Come on, baby. Please, I want to cum.”

“Are you ready to get fucked?”

Her husband was at her ear with savage hunger. His excitement hummed through her body. Without seeing, she reached out for his head, pulled him to her mouth and ravaged him with a kiss.

“Do you want me to, baby?”

“So much.”

Surrounded by strangers, finger lengths away from her most private places, she felt above all the bond that wrapped her husband to her. They were partners in this erotic caper, forever welded by trust, faith and desire. What she wanted, so did he. Boundaries were for breaking, their union, so present now in the swirl of this pleasure, gave them freedom to act. To go together, where weaker partnerships did not dare.

“You want me to fuck them all?”

“As many as you’d like.”

“I want to be spoiled.” She let her head fall back to the pillow on the bed. Her lower back arched for a yearning moment and her lips curled into a devilish smile. “Really spoiled.”

“Alors, Messieurs. Ma femme est prêt. Allez-y,” her husband commanded

She could feel the room reorder. Position and responsibility wordlessly sorted out, a heavy weight settled between her legs. The bed sank gently as confident hands braced themselves next to her shoulders, a well-muscled chest grazed her nipples and then the hot, hard manliness of arousal pressed against her cunt. Her breath shot out of her: the strangeness of the cock was shocking. Like chocolate drizzled on cold vanilla ice cream, it ran up and down her lips, making her drip in the delicious combination of stiffness and heat.

She could smell an unfamiliar soap and the Parisian night air on the first of her unseen lovers. For a moment, it took her outside the room and out and on to the Champs Elysee. Earlier in the evening, she’d held her husband’s hand as they looked towards the Tour Eiffel’s beckoning lights, she’d never felt closer to him, never more in love.

The urgent unknown cock pushed its way into her and she moaned with the sweet ache of its power. Gently, steadily it moved within her sending tides of ecstasy up and down her being. She snaked her hands around a taut waist and let them settle on the hard rise of his humping ass. Greedily, she pulled it toward her, widening her legs, searching for more.  Next to her, she could hear her husband’s quickened breath and knew immediately that his hand held his own cock in an indulgent response to the image before him.

“You like what you see, baby?”

“You have no idea.”

“Give me another.”

For what felt like hours, she fucked these strangers. Her husband beside her, her blindfold on, she took them on in a sensual sequence of positions and numbers. She squatted over thick cocks and rode them till they burst inside her. Knelt before hard-ons thumping for release and savored their musky newness in her mouth. Her hands roamed over rippling muscle, some lean, some dense with beefy strength. Held up with only her shoulders on the bed, one man crazed her with a slow pulsing suck on her clit while another saucily slid his tongue up and down her ass. On all fours she was taken from behind with rugged pounding, matching its intensity with her own enthusiastic sucking work on two unseen sumptuous cocks.

Again and again, her body shuddered to exquisite climax until she was left shaky and spent, complete and raw.

In the darkness of her blindfold, the space of the room reformed once again. The music stopped and in low, friendly voices, her intimate strangers took their leave of the room.  They thanked her husband, pressed grateful hands against her body in salutation and then left. The door that welcomed the strangers briefly closed behind them and, she was as she always would be, alone with her husband, joined in love.

His fingers undid her blindfold. Blinking in the low orange light of the last burning candle, a tired laugh spilled from her deliciously used mouth.

“Well, thank you for that.”

“You liked?” he asked. His hand slipped over her still warm ass and slid up and into her sticky wetness.

“Very much. It was quite a surprise.”

He lay down beside her and his hardness pressed into her hip.

“But this is what I want more than anything.” Her hand grabbed him.

She rolled over and he was on top of her in the effortless synchronicity brought on by years of practice. In an instant, he was inside her.  Hungrily thrusting, an evening of his restraint and her pleasure had him on the brink in moments. Together they breathed in rhythm, eyes open looking straight into one another. Her back arched one last time, her knees lifted and his heavy, swollen balls erupted.