Fleur 1

It was my first leg of the journey by train, and quite frankly, I didn't know that it could be quite so dull at times. I was alone in a sleeping car designed for four, it seemed, so apparently I chose well on the timing, it being the off-season for such passage. I was definitely not in a great rush, as it happened, but I still wanted to actually enjoy my vacation, having taken it just after my wife and I had a rather big spat, with no guarantee of a solution yet.

Such were my thoughts as I sat in my rather bored mood, staring out the window, feeling a bit like that man from "The Gambler" by Kenny Rogers. You know that song, "You gotta know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, know when to walk away, know when to run... " right? Okay, so I'm dating myself a bit here, knowing that song so well. I had wanted to escape stress, but had fallen into tedium somehow. I shrugged and decided that things were bound to improve. I was in another country, checking out the vistas and far away from the constant crises back home.

"Parlez vous francais?" I abruptly heard a soft, feminine voice disrupt my musings and memories.

"Um ... no, sorry. I don't speak French, if that's what you're asking. Are you assigned to this car?" I asked the owner of said voice.

"Oui, monsieur. Pardon me ... I do speak English, just not as fluently as I might like. So, you see, we are both in ... similar ships, is that the saying?" the young woman asked me as I looked up, finding her to be an extremely attractive young lady of about twenty or so.

"It's an American saying, and it's 'we're both in the same boat.' But it sounds to me as if you got the point of it, anyway. You deduced the correct meaning behind it, which is what matters. Mark Clark, like the general," I offered a handshake as I rose to help her with her luggage, not bothering beyond the initial query at this point.

"Merci beaucoup. I am Fleur Masson," she told me in a very soft, low voice, even now.

After all, even if by mistake, why wouldn't I want my fellow passenger to be this lovely young foreigner? She took my hand and accepted my help, which was nice, because I wasn't ready for a lecture on condescending or patronizing misogynistic behavior as a reflection of the patriarchy or any such nonsense. I didn't like every aspect of chivalry, but I definitely thought that particular brand of feminism, along with the kind that wanted special treatment and equal rights at once, were both disturbing forms of fanaticism. The one failed to distinguish between genuine, voluntary acts of kindness and courtesy and real attempts to oppress someone, while the other treated men as nothing more than a servant class until supposedly we had atoned for the crimes of our ancestors or some bullshit like that.

At any rate, I was more than happy to assist the young woman, who I assumed to be French unless I knew otherwise, into the sleeping car in this part of Europe. I believed that we were still in France, so it made perfect sense to me at least to take for granted her nationality. She helped me with helping her out, which was a nice form of cooperation (take that, cynics!) as well as a nice start on a tongue twister. I sat back down as she took out a copy of Le Monde and began reading it quietly, presumably in French as well.

At least, I figured, my present company was pleasant enough, even if rather quiet. Of course, the French were notoriously aloof with strangers, anyway, so this could be normal behavior for her, right? I looked out the window again for a while when I felt it ... against my left foot. It was her right foot, and it was shoeless now. I looked over at Fleur and noticed that she had a cigarette in her mouth, which she puffed on casually as she moved her foot coyly against mine.

I wondered if she could see my wedding band, and if so, how that might affect things, so I moved my left hand over to my face, allowing Fleur a glimpse of this important piece of jewelry. It often magically served as woman repellent, at least in some circles, but I was curious as to the impact here. Fleur gave me a very innocent smile, as if the foot contact was accidental, but I no sooner looked away than I felt her foot against my left calf now.

I decided to try reading a bit and see if this affected her, even though the books that I had on me were books saved up for when I was sufficiently bored, as the other books I had donated to my son's latest reading project. I loved to read, don't get me wrong, but popular fiction seemed to have declined and I now suffered sufficient eye strain that too much reading could bring on migraines these days. I made a halfhearted to get through a second reading, no, a third, of Red Dragon, a nice enough Thomas Harris novel, but I wasn't honestly in the mood for reading about the abuse that the villain endured as a young boy at the hands of his grandmother. It was just frankly a bit depressing to reread something like that in light of my marital troubles with my wife, Janine.

Sure enough, I felt that foot against me a third time, only now it was bolder, gently caressing my thigh. This time, Fleur actually removed her beret, put her cigarette out, and leaned over to kiss my left hand, even my wedding band. Then she smiled sweetly at me, as if she was completely innocent of any kind of seduction or attempt at the same. I started to look away, feeling a little uncomfortable now, but Fleur wasn't having it. She put her beret in my hands and literally let her hair down in front of me.

It was a very pretty head of dirty blonde hair, actually, and she looked absolutely ravishing by any standard. She smiled at me and showed me the wedding band on her own left hand, thus making all of the pieces fit into place, or at least the ones that mattered. Fleur was a married woman, too, albeit rather young compared to most wives that I'd met before. She winked at me and brought out another cigarette, gesturing for me to light it for her. In a moment of weakness, I lit the damn cancer stick for her, not wishing to be rude.

Fleur smiled sweetly at me and resumed her teasing, now putting her feet closer to my groin, inching her way to my cock and balls. Now, whatever my marital issues, strange as it might seem, an absence of sex wasn't one of them, so I was well aware of signs that a woman wanted me to take her to bed. Janine had pulled enough hints over the years that I caught on fairly well. She had other issues, but I never had to live as a monk. My wife simply enjoyed sex too much to give it up even when we bickered and fought over something petty. In fact, that led to some of the best carnal relations of our marriage, whether for make-up or for angry sex.

The fact was that even a dense enough chap like me could sense that Fleur wasn't just being playful anymore. While I watched her closely, she reached down and removed her skirt, which also covered part of her blouse. Now, she stood in only her blouse, panties, and bra. She certainly had my attention if she wanted to dress and behave like that. I gulped a bit, tossed back some water with my free hand, and shifted very uncomfortably as I felt my cock stir more than a little. She was at least engaged in a serious tease, if not more.

"So ... we're both married ... what's your husband like?" I asked Fleur, trying to pretend that she hadn't resumed rubbing her bare feet against my crotch.

"He is an older man, very sweet, very ... considerate. He understands that I am young and have ... appetites. He sometimes lies with his ex-wife and I am good with this, too," Fleur explained the nature of her marriage, putting things in a bit more perspective for me.

"My wife, I doubt that she would be so ... understanding. She can be jealous at times. At other times, I wonder if she is unfaithful, but if so, that would make her a hypocrite, wouldn't it? She is not always very rational or mature. She is, however, very amorous ... you see," I clarified something about Janine, all of it quite true.

"If she is a hypocrite, then she forfeits any say in this. If she is not understanding, then perhaps it is best not to confuse her. You do not treat an unreasonable person the same way that you would treat a mature, rational one, do you? I do not expect that you are one to ... what's the English expression, suffer... , " Fleur struggled for the words, rather charmingly.

"Suffer fools gladly. She's not a fool. Just not always very wise about things like this," I stipulated.

"So, she is foolish about this, but not other things. So, in my experience, limited as it is, I have learned to only tell people things what they are wise, mature, and reasonable enough to grasp. Do not overwhelm them. Personally, I don't see any need to divulge what we are doing here, but I also see no reason to deny yourself what your wife cannot provide you now, and what from the sound of it, she is not denying herself in the least. If I had to guess, she does not know why she strays, but she fears telling you, because then you would have freedom to stray as well. If you have the freedom to stray, she reasons, you might find another woman, one ... more reasonable than her. It is bad logic, but it fits her flawed premise," Fleur elaborated with a puff of a cigarette, her voice growing sexier by the minute, very seductive in fact.

"It is bad logic, because if I could be with a woman who isn't a hypocrite, why would I choose a hypocrite over someone who isn't? Keeping me from another woman's arms isn't an incentive for me to stay, but for me to leave, if she were to stray, that is. All this is based upon the assumption that she strays, of course. What if she doesn't?" I pointed out.

"Well, I grant you that I have a vested interest in you believing that she strays, but I don't doubt that she does. And my husband was with a similar woman, his ex. She is nicer now, because she is less ... extreme and jealous. She has matured, become more sensible, since he left her. I am a woman, and everything that she does and says, from what I've heard and what I've seen in the past with other women tells me that if you think that she might be straying, then she most certainly is.

"Women are sneaky. It takes men a while to discover even the most subtle hints of our deception, because we've learned how to deceive out of necessity. We evolved it to survive a stronger male half of the species. Men are not subtle. They do not have to be, not with sheer, brute, physical strength at their side. For you to see the smoke, the fire must be rather bad by now. She's straying, she's praying that she is never caught, because then you might cheat or leave. She wants to keep you faithful and ignorant, so she never has to fear competition while she has her own pleasures on the side.

"Women like this are hypocrites, as you say. They are not evil or bad, just ... weak. Human. Flawed. Irrational. Afraid. If she were brave, if she were strong, if she were wise ... she would stray, but encourage you to do so as well, especially on a sleeping car of a train that she chose not to board. She's selfish. She's quite commonplace. And if she doesn't choose to respect you, why in the hell, pardon my American expressions in case I am wrong, but why would you choose to restrict yourself to such a woman?

"Think of it, Monsieur Clark. You can have me and just for the asking. Not everyone can. I specifically mean you. Why you? Well, especially now, because I want to give you back what she has stolen from you," Fleur finished her little summation.

"You should be a lawyer or something. You'd make a juror question the color of their soda. But what has she stolen from me?" I asked Fleur, to be clear.

"Your confidence in women, since you're not sure that you can trust them. Your freedom, in that doubt and confusion leaves you in a limbo where you do not know if she is faithful and your decision about straying depends entirely on her actions. And your conscience, since it is plagued by worries and self-accusations. Your pride as well, if you think of it, if you allow uncertainty to justify a double standard of injustice and unfairness against you. Your moral clarity, if you cannot see this abuse and misuse of you by her for what it is. Manipulation," Fleur waxed bolder, even as she arose and poured some brandy from a flask into my glass of water.

"Cognac?" I asked after smelling it.

"You have a good nose. Tell me, can you smell this?" Fleur slid off her panties in front of me and handed them to me, inviting me to sniff them.

They weren't just damp. They were drenched and I could see the blonde bush under the table that made them so wet. It wasn't a lot of pubic hair, but enough to make for more humidity at least. She smiled and her beret back on, while unbuttoning her blouse, leaving only her bra on her now. Then she turned around, suggesting without words that I unclasp her bra for her, in the process mooning me with that delectable ass of hers. I did as she asked and she stood, triumphant in her nakedness, even as she took a sip and encouraged me to do so as well.

I felt a little self-conscious about the fact that I was clothed and Fleur was nude, but she didn't seem worried, though at least part of that was due to an obvious attempt to entice me to fuck her. She became even more aggressive with the footwork, making my cock now stand at full mast. I groaned and she smiled a very pretty smile before kneeling to unzip my pants. She had what she wanted and she was determined to pursue it, quite ruthlessly in fact. She proved this when she yanked my boxers down and gave me a soft, gentle kiss right on the head of my dick.

"You want this, do you not? Your prick does not lie, my American friend. Think of it this way. This will probably save your marriage, because even though your wife is still a hypocrite, she no longer has you at a disadvantage, no longer has you unsatisfied with the arrangement or situation, feeling abused and misused. She will have failed in her attempt to control and manipulate you. You can walk back into your home with your head held high, with dignity, pride, and your manhood restored, no longer her victim. No longer in doubt.

"If she strays now, it is no matter to you, as you have strayed as well. If she doesn't, you've repaid her for past injustices. If she had gone with you here, I might have seduced you both or neither of you. But she cannot rightfully deny you what she has failed to provide you. She has the right to stay home, but she does not have the right to deny you companionship from someone else that costs her absolutely nothing at all.

"Eventually, she will realize what she has endangered, but by then, you will have the confidence with other women and can set your own terms for continuing the marriage. You will have more leverage in your marriage, mon cherie," Fleur explained her logic, just before she suddenly took the plunge and inhaled my cock into her pretty mouth.

There was no turning back now and I knew it. From the moment that a naked Fleur Masson took my dick between her lips and began sucking me, I was already a cheater. There was nothing to do now but enjoy the experience. The Brits had a saying, "In for a penny, in for a pound." If I was a cheater, I reasoned, there was no sense in stopping at half-measures. I was in the hands of a skilled fellatrix who had a completely amoral attitude about matters of sexual fidelity or anything of the sort and she was very determined to seduce me. She pleasured me with her soft lips and her wet tongue in ways that would be difficult to describe or explain to anyone.

I was actually a little hard up, due to one of the rare occasions when Janine and I hadn't engaged in make-up sex after our last spat over me going on this vacation and her not wishing to join me. It was supposed to be a romantic surprise for her, as she had long spoken of her desire to travel to Europe and see much of it by train. She would have enjoyed it as much as I, but the second ticket went unused and here I was, alone in a sleeping car with a luscious adulteress who didn't hesitate to jump my bones.

Yes, the more I thought about it, it was too much of a coincidence that Janine had balked on her own fantasy trip to Europe. Surely, she wanted to get away from work, too. If she didn't want to tag along with me, it was because she found something, or someone, else more attractive and exciting right then. Perhaps she didn't think of it in those terms, but while my adultery didn't involve rejecting Janine, hers absolutely required refusing me. She had hurt our marriage, not I.

I was now angry, thinking of it that way, and Fleur seized her opening, climbing my cock to take it deep inside her slippery gash. She put her lips on mine and kissed me repeatedly, the passion in her kiss more than compensating for any unpleasantness from cigarette breath. She put my face in her hands and moved my hands to her bottom, something that I didn't even try to resist, as it was her best feature among many. She wasn't just fucking me now. She was seducing me and I knew it. She had seduced me already, in fact, well before I realized it and also before she had even started to suck me.

This was a done deal and I knew it, accepted it, and realized that the consequences of this were that my marriage would either be much stronger or dead in the water. Then again, my marriage was already in trouble as it was. The fact that my wife put her paramour and their tryst ahead of a vacation with me was not a good sign for its health. If she had been willing to take a rain check long enough to go with me, none of this would have happened yet. Then again, this was actually good, I thought, as Fleur continued riding me with her sweet, luscious body.

This was my path to freedom, to no longer giving a damn. I would simply stop caring about trying to figure out and work around Janine's manipulation. I would stop making excuses for her. She would have plenty of her own, anyway. I would still try to reassure myself that she wasn't a hypocrite, wasn't a liar, wasn't using me for her own selfish needs while hypocritically accusing me of what she did. I was done putting up with her crap. Having a woman actually appreciate me made me feel more confident to stand up for myself after letting things slide so slowly, gradually, and discreetly that I had conned myself into rationalizing her hypocrisy and tolerating immaturity. It had been a slow, quiet decline that happened when I wasn't paying attention, but I was wide awake now.

Those were my thoughts while I began aggressively taking Fleur, even pushing her off me to bend her over and slide into her from behind. Instead of getting upset, my new lover rolled with the punches, quickly catching on to my purpose as she welcomed me inside her bushy twat and took it balls deep. The fact that she was willing to let me bone her bareback was intriguing, but it was the furthest thing from my mind yet. I drove my way inside her repeatedly, even pulling her hair as she took me good and rough.

"You're pissed at your wife now, aren't you? Good! Take me! Punish me for what your wife does to you! Pretend that I am her, or just fuck me in spite of her! Just ... fuck me!" Fleur screamed at me as she pushed back at me with equal fervor.

I didn't need much prompting or urging to slam it deep in Fleur's snatch, that was certain. Her slickness around me only grew, as she pushed back harder on each stroke, definitely eager to get more of me inside her. I grabbed her buttocks again as I pounded her, my fingers even playing a little with the outside of her asshole. Fleur reacted to that kind of attention by creaming herself twice in a short space of time, something that I would never have expected. Janine didn't cum like this for me, though it was true that I seldom if ever touched her butt-crack, let alone her puckered hole.