A FRENCH AFFAIR PART 01
Revisions
L'Affaire française
2024
PROLOGUE: JEAN-LUC
Je détestais les petits enfants, pouvais pas les supporter
. But I knew the road to love, or at least
chez grandes bites
, was often paved with smiles of babies, so I... tolerated them. But only to a point where it was not too detrimental to my own health and by extension, my sanity. The problem of course was that babies like me so much, like moths to a flame that they were.
I knew I was going to have to play the long game when I first saw Richie
mon cousin américain
with his tall spouse, waiting for me at the gates of the arrivals in the airport. I was initially mildly surprised: how tall and huge could someone get and still be in perfect masculine proportion? Added to that with a handsome chiseled face, mesmerizing grey eyes and a brilliant smile that could have melted the sun, and a hint of a bulge in his old-fashioned khakis, all made for a very masculine, very breeder-chic, very B.G. (that's French for a handsome guy).
He was quiet on the ride home from the airport. I was riding in the back with the baby - what was his name again? - and was making funny noises to distract the baby, who seemed to find my sandy blond hair amusing. Richie was talking about something or other, a pleasant drone to accompany the drive. Time and again I caught him looking back at the driver's mirror with that beguiling smile, and after a while I realized that he was smiling at his son's antics.
My asshole throbbed gently at the thought of having those smiling lips, so warm, so fatherly, latched deeply onto my pulsating anal rim, licking and tasting my secret hole, preferably after depositing a huge load of cum inside my warm French cunt.
CHAPTER ONE: RICHIE
I paused my ministrations and surveyed the scene. My husband Connor, the man I had loved and made love to for the past seven years, was looking at me with half-lidded eyes, with what looked from where I was perched like incredulity and brazen lust, incredulity at my current pause at bringing him to a full-throated orgasm with my fingers and my mouth. My handsome husband, who would move the ends of the earth for me, with his manly arms, wide pecs, his flat dad-tummy, his huge Irish cock and heavy fertile balls, from which had sprung our baby, completing our happy home, who now was seeking relief with his beseeching eyes. I thank the gay goddess for every day that I got to spend with this man, this perfect man, and that he had chosen me to be his husband, his partner in life.
"Come on baby, let me come."
"Say the word."
"What word, oh fuck baby." A glimmer of a quake, a shadow of an orgasm, passed in his cock.
"Come on, say that itty bitty word and I will let you come in my mouth" I made a show of licking my lips. "Might even swallow."
"... Please, baby."
He let out a big groan as I swallowed his cock halfway down to his root, where it became simply too thick to occupy my oral cavity. No matter, I worked my magic with what I had, slathering the thickness with spit and his own plentiful sweet-salty precum, running my active tongue up and down the length, rubbing the blunt head against the roof of my mouth, giving more stimulus for him to achieve his cum.
Suddenly he lifted his ass as if he could have achieved more depth inside my mouth. I groaned at that, earning myself a grunt from my lovable husband. My fingers came up the seam of his testicles, the line where both sacs met, that sensitive ridge that could have made him cum instantly had I not holding the root of his cock hostage with my other hand. I tickled my way down the ridge, while simultaneously blowing and rattling my palate against the head of Connor's gargantuan erection, a technique I had learned in college and now reserved specially for him.
"FUUUUUCKK BABY YOU'RE... GODDAMMIT I'M CUMMMMMMMINGGGGGG!" My husband cried out - or seemed to, in that controlled scream he had cultivated since we brought Colin home months ago. His cum came out in drenching flows, like an unstopped bottle of the finest wine or spirit. It tasted sweet and heady, reminiscent of the orange and pineapple juice concoctions I had him drink every morning since I married him. The flow spilled out of my mouth, running down the side of his cock, and pooled down below his balls. More for me to lick.
"Come up 'ere you lovely you." My husband murmured, his voice faint and already halfway slurry. He was always like this after a massive orgasm, slightly doozy and inebriated even if there was no speck of alcohol in his blood. My love for the man grew thousand-fold as I climbed over his massive hulking frame and settled beside him. I was not a small man, not by any measure, but standing - or lying - beside my husband, he dwarfed everyone by an inch or two - including all appendages - at least. Probably the Irish in him. "I love you honeybuns."
"I love you." I trailed my finger on his pecs, gathered my courage. "And speaking of love, won't it be er, lovely if we get an au pair for Colin?"
"Eeoh what do you mean?"
"Oh baby, it's already eight months, he should be okay, besides" - I leaned up and looked into the glimmer in his grey eyes - "I do miss my cousin, he can be our au pair, he can stay with us in the house, there's a room, a lovely room in fact, so I'll get to see my cousin and have an au pair."
"Two birds with one stone, my ever smart husband." My handsome hubby chuckled, kissed my forehead, then thought about the proposal. "A French au pair. Isn't that the international equivalent to a homewrecker?"
"Hush you're talking nonsense. Besides my cousin is probably straight."
"Okay I - yawn - you make the arrangements. Use my card if you need to, but not too much okay?"
"I love you."
"I love you too."
CHAPTER TWO: RICHIE
It took a lot of preparation and jumping across red tapes and money, if we were going to be honest about it, but finally my cousin Jean-Luc was here in our home. He was a bona-fide model, the type who walked runways and graced magazine covers back in Austria where he was based, but he was a few months between assignments and rent and general expenses apparently had increased in Europe after the whole Covid debacle. It was also an olive branch gesture to that side of the family - one of my mother's sisters, who had since passed away, had run away from home to be with a French painter - I know, so cliché - back in the 80's - and besides, he would be an amusing attraction point to the family day-cum-dinner I was planning next month.
How to describe Jean-Luc? How did one describe a sunset, really? He was tall, but not taller than Connor - nobody was - and was as slim as a young athlete figure you often see on those ancient Grecian urns in museums. He had a chiseled face, the kind that looked like all edges and planes with his sharp cheekbones, but could turn soft and cuddly with a singular smile. His hair was curly, but kept short, which made him look like an adorable, particularly naughty angel. Most importantly he was good with babies, and Colin adored him from the get-go, which for me was the whole point of this enterprise.
"So, what do you think?" I was doom-scrolling at the vanity table, and watching my husband's reflection in the mirror. He was knee deep in his iPad, but his grey eyes flashed to me.
"About what?"
"About Jean-Luc, you dummy." We had installed him in the guest bedroom, where Connor had his old man cave-cum-office. It was across the hallway, but it was closer to where Colin slept in his cot. He was thankful that it had its own en-suite, so convenient.
"Well, he certainly is good with Colin."
"Don't you think he's a good-looking man?"
"Babe. He's a model. I think that comes with the territory." There, that lop-sided grin I had come to know and love over the years.
"Do you think he's gay?"
"I thought you said he's straight?"
"I don't know babe, I have a feeling."
"Auh, you and your feelings. Let's just go to sleep, I'm tuckered out."
Apparently husband dearest was not too tuckered out for a round of lovemaking. Though on this occasion he opted for doggy style, which was rather rare. He always made love to me in the missionary, loved how he could hold my hands, knock our rings together and make me come hands-free, and he loved to see deep into my eyes when we come together, which was often the case; inversely I always loved watching the light turn in his eyes as he felt my ass flutter this way and that around his welcome intrusion, and that special way his crow's feet scrunch up as he approach his climax. The other thing was when I turned to look at his face he had his eyes closed shut as he thrusted deep into my ass. I wondered briefly if he was seeing a certain Franco-Austrian guy behind the lids of his eyes. Then the rush of cumming blocked all thought from my sex-addled brain.
CHAPTER THREE: RICHIE
The rush was on. As the host for this year's family day cum dinner, I was in and out - though more out than in at the moment - of the house for the preparations: the food, the decorations, the special vegan catering we had to order for Aunt Louise, the games and activities for the children, booze for the adults, the list was practically endless, and I had to acclimatize Jean-Luc to the workings of our home on top of everything. But I took it all in stride, Jean-Luc was a fast learner, and most importantly was not neglecting baby Colin.
Connor helped where he could, mainly with setting up the decorations and the photos - so lucky to have a handsy man around the house - and planning the games for the kids. But most of the time he was content to be out of my way as I rushed in and out with my cousins - locally sourced ones - and get the house in tiptop shape. If there was anything more complicated needed he could always be found at the outhouse or the pool, playing with Colin in the water.
