Timegasms 2, French Expo!
©2015 Literocat
[This incident occurs during Ted and Tari's trip from the Louvre to their hotel. Someone said 'a story grows in the telling (or writing).' This one was supposed to be a simple 2-step to the hotel, but Tari's horny hormone made so much more of that! It INSISTED it be a separate tale since it didn't advance Tari's special voyages. However, on further consideration, and subtle nudging from Lois, my muse, I'm returning it to its main stream. Thanks Lois - I think.]
_________________________________________________
"Bless you!" he said. "I hope you aren't getting a chill in Paris." Little did he know! I was still facing the church painting and noticed it was different. Arm in arm with my innocent, repressed, ignorant husband, I finally noticed the difference. The nude figure in the church painting was gone. Did I do that? I thought it best not to mention that.
Did this mean I might have brought back an STD, DNA or even become pregnant? What must my three young lovers think happened to me? My heart raced, AGAIN, as I silently, somberly wondered what I did, why and how all that will change my life.
Recalling the three virile cocks that were inside me a moment ago got my pussy twitching again. Ignoring the possible, umm residual evidence that might still be on my teeth and tongue, I wrapped my hand behind Ted's head and brought him down to me for a lingering, and appropriately, French kiss. He didn't flinch so I assumed it was safe, but he did react very strongly to our public affections. I didn't learn until after our métro ride that though Ted tasted no hint of cum in my mouth, my breath smelled of sperm . . . of sex that inspired and drove my usually conservative husband ruttish.
"Honey, let's get back to the hotel for a while." I gasped. Ted readily agreed. As we left, I considered my appearance. I had chosen a green print, innocent looking dress with two-inch straps loosely supporting my tailored bodice which tucked neatly under my full tits and subtly emphasized them. The low and wide square cut top with wide and deep arm holes exposed nearly all of my plush tits and deep cleavage while my tiny, lacy bra modestly covered my nipples - as long as I was upright. Bending to any degree forced my big girls to swell and jiggle as they threatened to escape. I knew how alluring that threat was to men. The mid-thigh skirt was loosely flowing and offered occasional peeks at my firm upper thighs at the whim of the wind. I always kept a hand on the skirt to keep it down, until now. My beige spikes further shaped my thin calves and thighs.
Somewhere between the Louvre and le métro, I felt the cool breeze wind up my legs like a tentative lover quickly seeking my pearly gate. My skirt blew up behind me, but since my strange adventure I didn't mind showing my thong and bare cheeks to all of Paris! I wondered, was I still wearing my thong? Ted's hand on my bare ass told me he knew I was exposed and for our first time in our conservative lives, he didn't object; my pussy twitched and moistened at the salaciousness.
We got seats on the half-full train and I was still highly aroused. I allowed my skirt to sit high on my thighs and Ted's hand rested on the hem. His sensual squeezing moved my thighs apart enough to demand the attention of the four French men across from us. Ted not only noticed, but seemed to enjoy teasing them with my camel toe. This is new! His hand slid up my bare right thigh and pushed my dress higher. So high that even I could see the transition from quads to pussy so I didn't have to wonder what the four men saw and thought. Their tented slacks, which they proudly and boldly displayed, proved I was right. My horny pussy made a damp, cool spot where eight eyes were focused and my hand drifted to Ted's lap and his rapidly swelling member. The train stopped and nearly emptied.
While the others watched, I rubbed Ted's tented slacks as his fingers found my slit and gently slid up and down. With my eyes fixed on the four throbbing French cocks, I smiled demurely and pulled my skirt higher up my left thigh. Very soon, my thong waistband was exposed and my skirt no longer impeded my swollen camel toe and the bump at its top. Feeling increasingly naughty, I leaned into Ted and told him to take out his cell cam. As he fidgeted for it, I told him to focus on the opposite window that reflected us clearly and to completely include us and our audience in video mode with no lights.
I slid my ass closer to the edge of the seat; there was no more denying I was blatantly performing for our lucky voyeurs. The train stopped suddenly and the lights dimmed. An announcement said a problem ahead had stranded us between stations for at least twenty minutes. We were all already beyond feigning ignorance, so Ted waggled the camera at the men for approval and indicated the window behind them. They either ignored Ted, or nodded OK with a small, proud smile.