The Merry Widow

by Vonnick de Rosmadec

  Ghislaine was indeed performing her duties as a hostess with both skill and enthusiasm; she had lowered Georgette’s panties down to her knees, careful not to remove them completely. She thoroughly enjoyed the obscenity of the situation she had created, delighting in the spectacle of this middle-class woman and her short-lived modesty now leaning against her desk, one breast poking out of her bra, her dressed raised to her waist while the marquise had the pleasant surprise of discovering how blonde her sex was.

  “Oh my, it’s true, you’re a real blonde all right! Our Italian friend and his buddies will be beside themselves. Oh Sergio, that devil! How I’d like to be in your shoes! Although I suppose he already services me whenever I ask. I just need to snap my fingers and there he is, ready to make me come. That beast is going to rock your world. I’d like to be there to witness your first round with this Roman maestro.”

  This little spiel made Georgette even wetter, so much so that her desire began to trickle between her thighs. Ghislaine took this opportunity to continue her examination. She brushed the blonde hair with the back of her hand, raising her head to meet the baker’s eyes.

  “How right you are to keep that beautiful little bush of yours so lush! When one is blonde and lucky enough to possess a pussy with a full head of hair, it’s quite right to keep this little thicket going. Your kitty is simply adorable!”

  Mimi noticed the change in Ghislaine’s voice—it was almost husky now, which meant the marquise was aroused, enjoying the feel of this newcomer under her hands. As she took care of the baker’s husband, her cheek resting against his hardened member, the chambermaid once again marveled at her mistress’s skill and authority.

  She decided to follow her lead by becoming sly and deferential. She affected the most ingenuous air she could and asked if she could proceed any further.

  “Do I have your permission, Madame Georgette, to check if your husband is truly as hard as it seems? May I pull his dickybird out of its nest?”

  “Please do, mademoiselle. It’s precisely why we’re here: so that I can have one of those big men I’ve been dreaming of for years … and so my poor husband can watch me get laid. That’s what this pervert wants: to see me howling in pleasure in a stranger’s arms.”

  The marquise paused in her exploration and turned toward the husband—noticing that Mimi had lost no time in obeying the wishes of both spouses. With an elegant flick of her wrist, she had pulled out the man’s cock. It was an honorable size and visibly hard as a rock.

  As though her assistant’s behavior were quite normal, the lady of the manor addressed Georges directly: “Is your lovely wife telling the truth? You, too, Monsieur Georges, would be interested in participating to one of our … parties? A husband can be offended to see his wife being … courted, to be euphemistic, by strangers’ hands—whether they’re male or female.”

  The man’s eyes met the marquise’s, before settling on the back of the neck of the young lady sucking him off; he answered with an sincerity she had not anticipated, in spite of her considerable experience with human behavior.

  “Quite the contrary—it’s why I came to see you! To see her get undressed, touched, and serviced by strangers. Look, it’s getting me quite worked up just thinking about it,” he said, leaning over Mimi. “Georgette, look!”

  His wife seemed to get angry, but she recognized her husband’s passion as quite genuine.

  “Well, I haven’t seen you so hard in a long time, my dear Georges! That little Mimi is quite bold!”

  “Yes, you are quite right,” the marquise agreed with feigned indignation. “Mimi, stop bothering our friend at once and go pour us some drinks!”

  Mimi gave the man’s swollen tip one last little lick and slipped away, laughing.

  “But why, why won’t you let her satisfy me? She’s so good at it! Oh, you’re going to have to take some fellatio training, dear Georgette ! Do you have this sort of thing in your club, Madame la Marquise? Do you give sucking lessons?”

  Ghislaine realized that, to her own amazement, this kind of entertainment had never occurred to her. She resolved to set it on the agenda at one of her seminars and lied.

  “Of course we provide fellatio training. In fact, our little Mimi is one of our most talented and active faculty staff members. These gentlemen can’t get enough of her.”

  “Neither can I!” George cried out wistfully, staring at his member, now forsaken by Mimi’s supple lips and playful tongue. “Come now, Georgette, it’s true, isn’t it? You’ve never went down on me with such refinement.”

  Georgette looked like she couldn’t hear him, lost in a daze, eyes unfocused, allowing the marquise’s expert hands to fondle her without a trace of awkwardness.

  “This Sergio of yours, this statuesque weightlifter whose magnificent body you’ve just shown me, do you think that … well, would he let me kiss him the way your assistant just kissed my husband?”

  “Would you be allowed to suck on his big salami, you mean? For it’s almost literally a salami, come to think of it. Why yes, of course! He’ll be delighted to see your pretty little mouth try to wrap itself around his enormous sausage. Believe me, he’ll be delighted … just as I’m delighted, at this moment, to discover the secrets of your blonde pussy.”

  Ghislaine indeed seemed fascinated by this forty-year-old’s sex. She had pulled up a leather pouffe and sat down to better inspect the feminine landscape before her eyes, its smooth fragrance making her slightly lightheaded. She had taken off her glasses and, with her thumbs, parted Georgette’s nether lips, bringing her mouth close as if to taste it. She wanted to lick it, to open it further, to tickle the clitoris with the tip of her tongue, to stick her nose between those dripping lips as it pulsated under her fingers. But, sensing that Georgette was a breath away from orgasm, she stopped immediately. She wanted leave her hungry for more.

  Now it was time to take care of the husband.

  She noticed he had gotten hard once more as he watched her ass move under her silk robe. Not wanting to disappoint him, she wiped her brow.

  “It’s so hot in here! If it were only up to me—if I wanted to shock you, that is—I would be happy to get rid of this robe I’m wearing!”

  “Please, don’t mind us! Make yourself comfortable,” Georges said hastily.

  She turned to Georgette and, feigning embarrassment, asked for her permission.

  “I’m completely naked under this, you see. … I only have the skin on my back!”

  “It is most assuredly a fine item of clothing,” said Georges, always the gentleman. “You have the most beautiful curves!”

  “Well, if you truly don’t mind …”

  She removed her silk robe with a smooth, elegant gesture, revealing herself in the simplicity of her magnificent naked body.

  Georges, his member still erect, quickly reached for her robe and brought it to his face to inhale her fragrance; eyes closed, he buried his nose into it the way a rutting boar buries its snout between the hams of a young sow tied to a stake as it waits, quivering, for the first thrust.

  “You smell so divinely good!”

  But the marquise pretended not to pay attention to him and, leaning over her desk, her beautiful behind offered to their eyes, busied herself with a membership application to the Château des Plaisirs.

  “Would you like to a month-long, summer-long, or year-long subscription?” she asked Georgette, who was leaning against her and looked like she only wanted one thing: to lay her hands on the marquise’s buttocks. Ghislaine laughed inwardly at this departure from the defensive awkwardness Georgette had shown when Mimi had begun nibbling at her nipple.

  The husband’s reply was so energetic it made both women jump.

  “For ten years, do you hear me? We’ll sign up for ten years!”

  And he rested his raised cock against the marquise’s ass.

  She laughed and, not losing sight of her goal, asked for a few signatures at the bottom of a document the couple initialed and signed witho
ut even reading.

  The deal now struck, the marquise asked a few questions.

  “I must ask—who gave you my address? Who recommended my Château des Plaisirs to you? There’s no shortage of swingers’ clubs in Paris or elsewhere, that I’m aware.”

  Georges, beside himself at this point, had come closer and, his rod in hand, attempted to penetrate their hostess, who did not move to help him. Quite the contrary: She firmly clenched her buttocks and thighs, judging that it was not quite time to score just yet. She had stopped Mimi from going through with her blow job minutes before because of her rule to always leave her visitors hanging until they signed. The memory of clients who vanished into thin air once their immediate pleasure had been satisfied was all too fresh. Her house was no whorehouse, and she was a madame, not a madam!

  Georgette, without even realizing it, was caressing her clitoris, which had been abandoned by Ghislaine, through her dress and panties.

  “We’ve heard of these places where couples meet, but to be honest we find them … a little scary. All those strangers … So, when my friend Marguerite told me about the excellent quality of care offered by your establishment, we didn’t hesitate for a moment. She’s told us all about such wonderful parties here! She hadn’t had sex in over two years, and now she’s reconnected with her body and all the delights it held in store!”

  The marquise swatted at the rod that was close to finding its way into her little hole and looked at Georgette with surprise.

  “Marguerite, let’s see … Do you mean our lovely doctor’s widow?”

  “Yes, she’s the one!”

  Ghislaine flashed a radiant smile and took Georgette’s hands in hers.

  “Any friend of Marguerite’s is a friend of ours! I am very fond of her, and I think she truly enjoys my little events. If I remember correctly, she had picked her dream lover from a catalog, just like you—our wonderful Jean-Baptiste! How funny! In just one session, he turned her into a real wild one! She’s now one of the most distinguished guests at our formal parties. Here, behold this formidable lover. Isn’t our basketball champ gorgeous?”

  She had opened one of her folders and showed the full-length portrait of her black athlete.

  “Oh, is he the one? She did tell me about a magnificently-endowed ebony man who plowed—I mean explored her derriere …”

  “Who gave her a fierce pounding in the ass, you mean?” Mimi exclaimed as she entered the room, bearing a platter of drinks. “Alcohol? Soda? Water? Sparkling semen? Fresh, wet clams?” she declaimed in a singsong impression of the cinema usherettes of yore.

  Ghislaine wanted to scold her but could not keep a straight face—especially since the married couple in her office had burst out laughing.

  The chambermaid cast a glance toward the documents spread on the desk and saw that the two newcomers had signed their contracts. Which meant that they were now bound, cock and pussy, to the great family of French countryside libertines. She knew all about her mistress’s technique: titillate the client, get them all hot and bothered—but do not let them climax until they sign! As soon as they did, however, one could—one should, even!—give them a treat, by way of celebrating their commitment. And so Mimi sprung into action.

  “Oh my, but you’re still rock-hard!” she cried as she approached Georges. “You haven’t found your way to your happy place yet? Allow me to guide you. …”

  She, too, bent over the desk and placed herself side by side with the marquise. She presented her ass, arching her back.

  “Which one to you prefer? The boss, or her humble, devoted, and obedient servant?”

  “Both … both!” he stammered.

  Eyes bulging, his member erect, George looked at these two equally desirable behinds. He hesitated between the voluptuous marquise and the young and firm chambermaid. He leaned closer to the two offered backsides, spreading them open with both hands, fiercely turned on by the permission given to him.

  “I just can’t decide! Both have their charms. …”

  “Come now, Georges, make up your mind—you’re being quite ridiculous!” giggled his wife, relishing every bit of this colorful scene.

  Ghislaine gave her servant girl a nudge. Understanding immediately, Mimi stood, grabbed the baker’s instrument, and bent down to moisten it with her saliva. Spreading her mistress’s cheeks, she pulled George’s tip to the entrance of the tight little ring, where she slipped two fingers in preparation for a lovely bit of sodomy.

  Georgette, mesmerized, edged closer so she could see Mimi directing her husband’s rod into the marquise’s backside. Her hair disheveled, her eyes wide and dazed, she watched, agape, the member that had been shoved into her a couple of thousand times over the past twenty years. For the first time, it searched, and found, a body other than hers. This private intromission made her realize this rod’s full existence for the first time.

  Beside herself, her cunt now positively gushing, Georgette barely realized that Mimi’s deft hand had found its way between her thighs and was tickling her clitoris through her light dress.

  “What on earth are you doing to me, you mischievous girl?” she wondered aloud.

  The pretty chambermaid’s response shut her up and turned her on even more at the same time.

  “I’m giving you hands-on training, madame! I’m setting your muff on fire!”

  Georgette had no idea what was going on anymore. Now sitting on her hostess’s desk, legs spread open so the young lady could stroke her pussy, she watched the gorgeous Ghislaine sway under the assault from her husband, who was having the time of his life. “Oh! Oh! Yeah! Yeah!” he growled, punctuating each exclamation with another thrust into the respectable marquise.

  “Oh yes, come on, you bastard, yes!” she answered back as he battered through her back door with the regularity of a lumberjack swinging his ax into a log—the lady of the manor’s log, and it burned red with the pleasure of being banged.

  “I’m burning, oh, I’m ablaze! Stuff my chimney with your red-hot poker!” she cried out, not without a certain lyricism.

  Georges did not reply as he was focused on his assault on the marquise’s ass. The backside of a woman who, not an hour ago, seemed so inaccessible, so far removed from the likes of him.

  “Your husband sure is vigorous!” Mimi laughed as she kneeled in front of Georgette, “Do you mind if I give you a little lick? Here, sit on this pillow; you’ll be more comfortable, and I’ll have an easier time sucking on your fruit.”

  Georgette complied at once, clucking in excitement and fear.

  “But you’re the first woman to kiss me there! This is unbelievable!”

  Her eyes darted back and forth between Mimi’s tongue and her husband’s rod as it came in and out of the marquise’s majestic derriere.

  “Mimi, don’t bother our dear Georgette! Stop kissing her there if she doesn’t like it!”

  “I didn’t say that! I didn’t say that! Please, keep going! You’re so talented! I only meant that ever since boarding school … We used to kiss one another this way, in our dorm, after lights-out. …”

  Mimi stopped mid-cunnilingus and looked up, surprised.

  “And your husband, who’s now plugging the marquise with such ferocity … he’s never kissed your pussy?”

  “Well, it’s been so long …”

  Her husband, puffing and panting, was still working away at Ghislaine. He did not seem to want to come yet, which surprised his wife.

  “You’re becoming quite the animal, my dear! With me, it’s usually three thrusts, and we’re done! But now …”

  “One must admit that my mistress, our dear marquise, is quite gifted when it comes to stopping these gentlemen from getting carried away. Her skill for tightening and relaxing her rings is quite extraordinary. She’s been tutoring me lately, helping me work on my bearing, so to speak; now I, too, can contain premature ejaculators. I can make them last long, so long …”

  “And they stay hard, so hard?” Georgette asked between her
giggles.

  “Ask your neighbor for her opinion on your husband’s rod!”

  Bobbing up and down with Georges’s thrusts, the marquise turned to Georgette and made her comments: “It’s a good, iron-firm cock and it’s filling my ass quite nicely. But if you’d like to lend me your mouth, I think all four of us could get even more pleasure out of this—if we dare!”

  In her altered state, Georgette dared—and gave her lips to the marquise, who began to gorge on them, shaking with pleasure.

  Mimi, who knew every rung of Ghislaine’s pleasure ladder like the back of her hand, heard in her mistress’s voice that she was about to climax; the time for a collective orgasm was imminent.

  She congratulated Georgette on the fragrance of her sex.

  “I won’t ask you the name of the perfume you’re wearing, but I find it complements your little blonde pussy in the most wonderful way. Your nymphae are so soft under my lips … so …”

  “My what? My nymphae? What on earth are those?” she asked between two of Ghislaine’s hungry kisses.

  Faced with such an absence of sexual knowledge, Mimi seemed genuinely surprised and paused her licking and kissing of the stiff little blonde clitoris and the warm, wet vulva.

  “Your labia? Well, your lips, the little lips inside this pretty vulva I’m exploring! Here, this is what I’m talking about, these pretty bits of pink silk. Mine are bright red.”

  At the same time, she seized the labia minora with her lips, licking, pulling, tickling.

  She was answered by yet another giggle.

  “Oh I see, I see! My, my, how much I’ve learned here in so little time!”

  This moment of rational speech had cost her such an effort that she let go once more, allowing herself to be submerged by the pleasure she could feel rising inside of her, grabbing hold of her cunt, her ass, her mouth, and now her hands. For, seeing the marquise’s heavy breasts swinging near her face with the motion of her husband’s battering, the forty-year-old suddenly felt bold and dared to reach out for one of the breasts with her hand.