A few days before my parents flew back, I rolled up to Agnès and Olivier’s sprawling house. My summer pitstop. Anonymity hit hard—no one outside this crew knew my secrets. Parked the car, grabbed my overnight bag like checking into a faceless hotel. Doorbell buzzed open. Inside, Florence introduced the new couple. Jean, town pharmacist, shook my hand. ‘Grown a lot since I saw you, kid.’ Vaguely knew my folks. Elizabeth, his wife, mid-50s brunette, curvy with extra pounds that screamed fuckable. Gym buddy of Florence. Dinner flowed. Laughter. Wine poured heavy. Plates clinked. Post-meal, Olivier herded us men to the terrace. Starry sky sprawled like runway lights at an airport lounge. We sank into loungers. Night air hummed with crickets, distant traffic whooshes. Women cleared inside. Minutes later, Agnès emerged, tray of digestifs. Basket of condoms dead center. Her elegant dress gone. Sheer tunic clung, tits free, nipples hard peaks. Hot breeze parted fabric. Shaved pussy flashed smooth lips. Jean froze, jaw slack. Eyes locked. Olivier grinned. ‘Isn’t Agnès hot, Jean?’ Stammer. Then door slid. Elizabeth framed naked. Hands behind back, chest thrust. Wide dark areolas. Pussy trimmed neat, lips parted inviting. Leather collar. Silver chain gripped by Florence. Tug. Elizabeth crawled to Jean’s chair. Knelt. Hands roamed thighs. Teased crotch. Zipper down slow. Cock sprang hard. She engulfed it. Gulp to balls. Tongue swirled shaft on upstroke. Slow rhythm. Jean sighed. Florence halted her. Held condom basket. ‘Pick who fucks her right. She resumes.’ Jean breathed ragged. Grabbed one. Handed to me. Agnès pressed my back. Pants dropped. Boxer too. Fingers rolled latex tight on my throbbing cock. Tongue traced neck to ear lobe suck. ‘Slow, Francis. She deserves gentle.’ Pushed me forward. I knelt. Gland nudged wet slit. Slid deep. Her walls gripped hot. She arched, moaned around hubby’s dick.
Florence spelled rules. ‘Francis is her main lover now. Decides when, where, who fills her. You supply condoms from your pharmacy, Jean. No details shared.’ Silence digested. Jean stroked Elizabeth’s neck. Pushed down. She sucked eager. I thrust languid. Deep strokes. Her ass cheeks rippled under palms. Pussy juiced, slurps echoed. She synced blowjob pace to mine. Peeked smiles. Pleasure climbed. Florence stripped. Leg over armrest. Fingers plunged her slit, mimicking her mom before. Agnès straddled Olivier reverse. Impaled on thick cock. Bounced hips. Sucked Alex standing. He lubed up. Slammed her ass brutal. Double stuffed. Her guttural roars spurred us. I ramped hard. Elizabeth bucked back savage. Clit ground air. Who came first? Blur. My balls tightened. Exploded jets. Vision white. Collapsed on cool tiles. Gasped air. Sweat pooled. Pussy aftershocks milked me dry.
The Stopover
Blurred eyes opened. Alone with Florence. She lounged fingering lazy. ‘Good?’ Yeah. Others inside. Moans guided us. Door cracked. Bedroom glow. Elizabeth and Agnès head-to-crotch 69. Elizabeth top. Tongues devoured. Jean railed Alex’s ass doggy. Alex rimmed Elizabeth deep. Olivier stroked, then mounted. Ass-fucked Elizabeth sudden. Slaps. Grunts. Chain reaction bliss. Florence tugged me out. Back to loungers. Stars wheeled. ‘Handle owning her?’ Yeah. Cool deciding her holes. ‘Not quite. Fulfill her fantasies. Invent scenes. We’ll tip ideas. She’ll spill direct.’ Got it. Silence. ‘That first night… “Like mother, like daughter?”‘ She leaned. ‘Said son. Your mom gyms with us… sometimes.’ Bombshell. Heart raced. Dawn edged. Slipped away quiet. Bag slung. Door clicked like returning mag keycard. Drove off. Corridor echoes of moans lingered. Pussy scent on skin. Elizabeth mine now. Next stopover called.