Public Glaze

Public Glaze EVA 1

I had an experience two years ago with François during a midnight swim. Yves, my hubby, did not mind when I told him about it, a bit forced as I knew that sooner or later my friends' gossip would come to his ears. I was however a bit scared of a possible pregnancy and swallowed the famous morning after pill. I was later on birth control and we shared, Yves and myself, a life with other partners both on his side and mine.

One important factor and somewhat exciting for both of us was that we had no secret for one another and were telling in detail our sexual adventures; It did not turn me on so much to hear about his flings with other women but the reverse, that is my description of my lovers, always had the effect of making him extremely hard and eager to fuck me. So, after a bit of shyness, I got used to the fact that he needed, or at least, found pleasure when listening to the details of my sexual escapades and was excited by the traces left by my lovers on or in my body.

At one point, he told me that he had been with a married wife who was also a regular client of a swinger's club and that we both had an open invitation to join them on any Saturday. Yves soon had me convinced that it could be fun to look and be looked at while making love. He added that in this sort of place nothing will happen unless fully consensual. So, we went, and I was at first not too enthusiastic about the lack of romance that pervades these clubs. You go there for fucking, not to make love and men definitely have to wear condoms, which for me is a bit of a turndown. However after a while, you may meet some nice people and with the help of the bar and some alcohol, you do have a good time enjoying a pleasant conversation. At least I did and Yves further down had a ball looking at me with another man's penis drilling my pussy. The first time we had a threesome, he was holding my hand and in a way it was some sort of a communion in sex between the two of us. After this, we were like two lovers sharing a deep secret

Four months ago, in early June, after two years of using the b.c. pill, my ob/gyn suggested that I stop it for three months to let my body go back to normal cycles. The idea was to resume the control in September after my third period. Yves and I, having a lot to do in June, stopped going to our sex club and prepared for our summer vacation when we go to the Mediterranean-sea from mid-July to mid-August.

Yves and I did not yet want a child and he bought some boxes of condoms to be safe during my most fertile periods from day 5 to day 20 of my cycle. As I said we were very busy closing files, paying dues, preparing our bags, stashing the watches and the few gold chains I have in the bank so that we did not have time for lovers despite the splendid weather and very long evenings.

The 13 of July finally arrived and we painfully, on packed motorways, drove south to our flat in Cassis near Marseille in the south of France. The 14th, Bastille's day, was on a week-end and we spent most of the day dusting our place, airing the cupboards, hanging our clothes, filling the fridge with the food we had bought on the way and finally relaxing and enjoying the beach. In the evening, we watched the traditional July 14th firework and went to the open-air ball which is always great fun bordering carnival with all types of people painted in blue white and red colors or wearing French revolutionary emblems.

We were shaking more than dancing when a man in his twenties jokingly took me in his arms and started dancing with me. Yves did not mind so I went on and when the music changed to a slow tempo, he kept me against him and went on. I could now feel his lower belly pushing against my very thin miniskirt and, as I was in the mood, pushed my pubic bone against him while smiling to show clearly I was in charge and not the shy wife he might expect. It went on for a while and as I saw Yves a bit alone, I stopped and invited my dancer to have a drink.

We all three went to the bar and had a "pastis", which is the local alcohol. We soon learned that he was a fireman (hence his good looking body) and that he would like to see more of us in the future. We were almost dead by then, scribbled down his name and phone number and Yves and I went back to our flat where we just slept until 9 the next morning..Nothing had happened with my beautiful firefighter but I was now hot as if he had ignited a fire in me, funny when you think of his job!

So, over breakfast, I started talking about our vacation, about sex, with Yves and we agreed to go to this club near Cassis where swingers meet and where we had been the summer before. We spent the day half nude in the cove where I had one of my first thrills with François.

By the time we came back to our place, I was hot, not because of the sun thanks to my 30 + sunscreen but due to my sexual desires probably made stronger as I had mentally re-lived the love scene I had with François on that same beach. It had also been too long since our last experience with others and the fact that I was in the middle of my cycle and probably very fertile naturally doubled my libido.

We had dinner, drinking one full bottle of rosé wine between the two of us and I was now really feeling the heat of the moment. I recall spending a considerable amount of time after dinner perfecting my make-up, shaving my legs and most of my pussy, just leaving a narrow strip of short hair on my mound, spraying my whole body with perfume, picking my white lace thong, my black leather miniskirt, no bra of course and a lovely pink shirt. High heels and, of course, my favorite fake jewels...

When I came out of the bedroom, all dressed to kill, Yves whistled and started kissing me saying he was so lucky to have such a beautiful wife. I did not want to ruin my looks so I soon pushed him away stating we would soon have time for that. Before going, I asked him if he had taken a pack of condoms with him as I was under no circumstances to take a cock bareback inside me whether his or some lover's as I was in the most dangerous zone of my monthly cycle.

The club was not packed as it was only eleven pm, and it was Sunday evening. We had paid our entry fee and had a couple free drinks coming with it. I went for a piña colada while Yves started with a gin and tonic. The music was soft and after putting down our glasses on a table, we started dancing and looked at the other couples. It was a blend of German, Dutch, French and Italian people, some in their twenties, young and fit, some in their fifties clearly overweight. We were commenting in one another's ear about who was attractive or repulsive and Yves mentioned a couple of more or less our age who was dancing close by and smiling at us. We answered similarly and, shortly after, invited them to our table. This is how things usually start in clubs

Both were French and had been in this club quite a few times. Frédéric and Christelle, as they introduced themselves, were working in Marseille and living in Cassis where they owned a house by the famous calanques. Both were working and while Frédéric, tall, dark haired, was dressed more or less conservatively with a pair of white slacks and a nice Ralph Lauren matching shirt, Christelle, rather short although quite thin with very dark eyes and a dark skin was dressed as provocatively as was possible: black leather miniskirt, high heel boots, black bustier barely hiding her round breasts, nail covered belt and dark make up. A hooker could not have done better, I thought...

Frédéric, after a while invited me to dance while Yves went with Christelle. I quickly learned that they loved swinging and that they liked this place because of its class and the security insured by the management: no drugs, no drunks, no thieves and a dress code prohibiting jeans, shorts for men etc. The clientele was classy and therefore the risk of STD s was probably minimal as any one infected would either not join in a group or would at least be protected.

Lately, after years of fear, condoms had been more of a choice than a mandatory item on the swing scene in France and you had to be really very careful.

Things were clear and as we danced I could see Yves' hand resting on Christelle's ass and feeling her well-muscled cheeks under her leather skirt. Frédéric noticed it too and soon had one arm hanging down and caressing my thigh while he pushed his already straining cock against me.

The heat was rising as we went back to our table, Christelle on my right side and Yves and Frédéric facing us. Christelle, like me had a miniskirt and I mean so mini that I could clearly see her tanned thighs all the way up, which, like her ass, were muscular. A moment later, as I picked my second drink from the table, bending forward, I saw her pussy completely bare under her skirt and obviously open to the eyes of Yves. I was surprised and looked at her. Looking at me she had a mischievous smile and asked me openly if I was shocked. I laughed, stating that I was used to do it myself, often going out without panties and had only put my thong on as we just arrived from Paris and were not quite yet in the mood.

She bent towards me and gave me a kiss on the cheek before I turned my head and our lips naturally met. I had had various experiences with women before and although not a pure lesbian as I love having a man against or inside me, I could consider myself as bisexual. The softness of a woman cannot be met by a man and the very knowledge of our points of excitation which are not only the pussy or tits as men tend to think is something a woman will always know and remember.

Soon Christelle had a hand on my thigh and was kissing me more deeply while our husbands were watching intently, their thin cotton trousers now bulging under the strain. We were heating up quickly and wanted to feel more when a woman, part of the management came to us to suggest that we take our drinks and follow her to the more private area. She was sculptural, black skinned, 6 ft. tall and dressed in some kind of dark red leotard which emphasized her slim body while her high heels made her taller than most men.

We looked at one another and as our hubbies were following her as under hypnosis, Christelle and I smiled at one another and followed.

We went past a wide-open door then along a corridor and came into the so called love room where seats had been replaced with deep sofas and some mattresses on the floor covered with dark sheets. Everything was spotlessly clean, and the temperature was a bit warmer than on the dance floor so as to allow people to go nude if they wished so.

We sat or rather lied down on one of the sofas and looked around. A few people were already openly flirting, one woman slowly masturbating two men and I wondered how she could have these two studs to herself as only couples are normally accepted in the club. Christelle had the answer and told us that besides Fridays and Saturdays where it was only couples, on the other days of the week the club would accept single males with a supplement of 50 Euros. Hence, the presence of more males than females. She added that among the management, there was also a proportion of black men and women and that they would invite some of their friends free as this blend of colors was seen as positive by the "clientèle".

I was now boiling and wanted more. Yves and Frédéric had ordered another round of drinks and because of the heat I was thirsty and sipped my third Piña colada although feeling a bit tipsy. Strange that no one ever drinks water in these places. Again, Christelle had her hand on my thighs and as we resumed our kissing, her hand went up under my skirt and reached my pussy barely protected by my thong. She took her mouth off mine and coming close to my ear said "tu es si mouillée, ton slip est trempé, tu veux continuer?" meaning that I was wet and wondering whether I wanted more.

I did not answer, just turned my mouth back to hers and slipped my hand under her skirt along her soft thighs which she parted to allow me to reach her lips. Was she wet! Although the word wet might not be right: she was slick and I immediately thought that she probably had made love before coming to the club.

I saw Yves and Frédéric slowly rubbing their cocks through their pants and as I drew Christelle's skirt up completely unveiling her shaved pussy for all to see, my hand was feeling her bald mound, her slick lips, her protruding clit and she sighed deeply. As a single man, both our husbands got up and came closer. Christelle was the first to undo the belt and lower the zip of Yves, my hubby while, leaving her pussy I now did the same for Frédéric.

I was surprised to see his cock immediately spring up as like Christelle, he was without underwear. His penis was not so long nor so thick as you may read in many stories but curved upwards towards his belly, very dark and very hard, uncut as is the norm in France. I felt him with my hand and drew a finger on his hole at the tip of his organ. Pre-cum was literally flowing showing me his degree of excitation. At the same time, I could see Christelle having lowered Yve's elegant boxer short, inspect him as if assessing his health and his potential. Yves, and that gave me some pleasure, has a cock a good inch longer than Frédéric.

Both are about the same as to girth but Yves' one is totally straight while Frédéric's organ as mentioned is curved and very dark. I suppose it is like faces, some have straight noses, others have it bent this way or that way. But the winner when it came to balls was clearly Frédéric whom I will call Fred from now on. His balls were stunning, like two large plums, heavy, warm, hairy, dark and so masculine it did not go with the rest of him as he had a really cute face and slim body.

As we looked at one another, the men withdrew and took off their clothes, shirts, pants, shoes and of course socks as we find nothing more ridiculous than making love with socks: French prejudice, I guess!

Christelle and I buttoned down our shirts which we mutually peeled off and I remember the pleasure I had to undo her own belt looking into her eyes and passing this silent message that I could be dominant! She would as you will read later prove that she could as well. Raising our hips, we let our husbands pull our skirts off (and thong for me) to leave us as naked as on the day of our creation save for the jewels on my arm, fingers and the thin chains both Christelle and I are wearing around our waists. Same for the shoes which our men kindly took off as in my opinion, only hookers screw with high heel shoes.

After a few seconds, our husbands came kneeling next to us, Fred on my side and Yves next to Christelle. I took Fred's cock in my hand again and slowly started to stroke him. My other hand soon went to his balls which I weighted and squeezed. I was admiring their volume and the softness of his skin and hair. In the meantime, Christelle, not wasting time, was sucking my hubby. A couple of men whom we had not noticed before came close to have a look at us. This is part of the game in those places and if you wish you may politely invite them to go away and they will. Both Christelle and I had stopped our activities and looked at both.

They were as different as possible, one being rather blond in his thirties, the other one black as coal, younger, and probably in his early twenties, a friend of the management I thought! Both were muscular, with more abs than our hubbies, probably gym addicts and altogether quite good looking. In a wince, Christelle and I agreed they could look and pointing at me she said, "Voiçi Eve et moi, je m'appelle Christelle. bienvenue au club " Upon which both men totally nude and sporting good size pricks introduced themselves as Dominique for the black fellow and Pietro for the blond one. As you may guess, Pietro was Italian and Dominique from Guadeloupe, a French island in the West Indies.

We invited them to come closer and our husbands, used to these games, made room for the newcomers without too much hesitation. Christelle came back to me and resumed her kissing. Fred, having moved, was now with his prick nearer my head while Dom (Dominique) was kneeling next to my belly, wanking his long and thick black cock. Soon, Christelle stopped caressing me and her hand went to Dom's penis. She was now half laying on me, her left breast pressing mine while masturbating Dom. Fred raised my head and placed a cushion under it so that I could see the scene and be closer to his dark prick.

Yves, my hubby had parted Christelle's legs and asking her if he could, slowly was rubbing his penis on her clit. She gave him the go ahead before turning her head and looking at Pietro who was masturbating his dick close to her hip. She then kissed me again and I could feel her tongue turning inside my mouth, under my own tongue, licking my palate, mixing our saliva. Her hand left Dom's cock and started rubbing my clit. It was fantastic and I was about to have a climax when she stopped and carefully but easily introduced one then two fingers inside my wet vagina.

I was now shaking, hoping for my orgasm when she took her mouth off mine, quickly replaced by her husband's stiff cock. I did not flinch and started sucking him as a candy, feelings his big balls in one hand while slowly jerking the base of his cock with my other one. At the same time, Christelle's fingers were going in and out of my pussy, rubbing my so-called G point at the front of my vagina and making sure to keep me near the peak but not letting me climax. She knew how to increase my desire to the highest levels!

At one point, I could feel like a shock in Christelle's body who for a while stopped moving her fingers inside me and looking over Fred's cock, I saw that Yves, my hubby, had now entered her pussy to the hilt. Pietro was looking at me sucking Fred's cock, Yves fucking Christelle and Christelle frigging me, as I was feverishly wanking his blond haired penis on top of Christelle who kneeling on her side and telling me so as to be heard how he would cum on us both. She was gasping and as she resumed her finger movements inside me, she grabbed my right hand from Fred's balls and taking it with her left one brought it to Dom's cock.

She stopped wanking him to let me circle his penis. I was amazed as my fingers would not meet. I squeezed him, took his gland against my palm, marveled at how wet he was and just had a fleeting thought at how it would be to feel him inside me. Impossible dream in my condition as I could be pregnant just with his pre-cum. This young man was big, very big. Christelle put her hand on top of mine and started moving, suggesting more than ordering a nice rhythm to get Dom to safely cum on me.

I had her other hand between my open legs, fingers inside me, her hubby in my mouth and was masturbating a very desirable black man. I tried to show Dom that I liked what I was doing and alternated slow and long movements with short jerky ones, pressing him hard and releasing the tension, then starting again. I could feel him growing even more and as he was moving towards his release, I similarly knew my orgasm was coming but Christelle made sure to slow down every time I was coming close.

Suddenly, I heard a grunt and this was Pietro who was coming. He aimed his cock at Christelle's hip and shot one then two and three long strings of cum on her side but mostly on my own belly and even my breast. I could feel the warm semen hitting me several times and even see his sperm trickling down her ribs onto my pubic mound. Seeing this took his friend Dom over the top and as I heard his breathing coming short, I accelerated my wrist movements, I could feel his cock still growing to a size I had never seen or felt before.

He literally screamed and making me stop with his own hand, shot wave after wave of cum first on my belly drowning my navel and as the jets lost power, he shot at my pussy. It was like a pool around my navel with Christelle's body blocking the flow of the combined sperms of the two boys... I was so close to climax now but Dom and Pietro moved back, always kneeling and that sort of lowered the tension one notch.