Swiped the keycard. Beep. Door to our Saint-Brieuc hotel room swung open. Generic chain spot near the train station. Suitcases thumped down. City lights flickered through thin curtains. End-of-summer stopover. Flight out tomorrow. Anonymity buzzed—nobody here knew us. Constance, my wife, kicked off heels. Her sundress hugged those full tits, firm ass.
Hotel bar downstairs. Bumped into old Vannes colleagues: André, ripped single guy, Ninon, tiny post-dump. Beers turned to shots. Laughs echoed. Back to our suite—living area with pull-out sofa, minibar stocked. Alcohol hit hard. André grinned: ‘Strip poker?’
The Stopover
Foggy heads nodded. Clothes flew. Ninon stripped first: petite frame, small perky tits, tight ass, shaved slit like a teen. Compared to Constance’s mature curves—heavy breasts swaying slightly, wide dark areolas, muscled cheeks. Both stunning. Naked now. Tension crackled.
André asked Constance: ‘Dance?’ She rose, tits bouncing free. Popped in a CD. Melted into his arms, both bare. His hand kneaded her breast openly. She pressed her belly to his hardening cock. Lips crashed. Fingers slid down, teased her bush, found clit. Her ass clenched against him.
Electrified. Knew she’d fucked around, but seeing it? Raw. Her eyes locked mine—troubled, distant. Pure lust. My cock stiffened. Traitor. Grabbed Ninon. Danced stiff at first. Then groped her tiny ass, pinched nipple. She ground her smooth mound on my shaft. Heat built.
Constance, eyes down, tits thrust, gripped André’s thick cock. Led him to our bedroom. Knife twist. Eased Ninon to sofa. She stroked me. Then stiffened: ‘No orgy. Ex haunts me. Bad lay tonight.’ Click. Guest room door shut.
The Transit
Bedroom: them tangled, kissing sloppy. Hands on her tits, fingering her sopping cunt. She jerked him slow. Demanded my bed. They split. André to sofa. Constance crawled in, pussy drenched. Slid finger in—slick mess. She shoved hand away. ‘Not with you. André wants more. Next room.’
Shocked, suggested she go. She did. Loose peignoir, tits spilling. Living room moans soon. Crept out. Her legs spread wide on sofa. André devoured her pussy. Eyes on me, wild. Sat edge. Caressed her heaving breasts tender. Like I owned the pleasure.
He rose. Cock poised. Thrust deep. Her cry. Fucked fierce. Ass slammed. I mauled tits. He raced, grunted, flooded her. Pulled out, cream oozing. Nodded me. Plunged in—hot, sloppy heaven. Pumped till I burst. He reloaded, hammered again. Tag-team pussy. Alternated. She screamed orgasms, juices flooding sheets. Five, six loads. Replete, she slept.
Crashed alone. Shitty sleep. Woke to grunts. Sofa symphony: him pounding, her moans peaking. Train tomorrow. Checkout soon. Urgency spiked cock. Join again? Hell yes.