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Gail Tests Bryan

By: HADRIAN M



If you have not read our postings I'll tell you what we look like. Firstly, this is all real. We are an early thirties couple, I am 5'10", in reasonable shape. My wife Gail is an exceptionally beautiful and intelligent woman, soft spoken and very shy. She is 5'7" with a young girls figure, long shapely legs, small breasted, and a picture perfect behind. Her light brown hair blondes in the sun and she has the loveliest green eyes. I am from Chile, where we are living and working now, Gail is an American. 

Every summer we take our holidays in and around the South of France. A few years ago while visiting France we met Tamara, an elderly British lady living in Cannes. Gail and Tamara quickly became friends. In spite of their difference in age they telephone almost weekly, their girlish chatter and occasional whispers, never failing to amaze me. This has been going on for a few years now and I know Gail anxiously looks forward to meeting Tamara again each summer. Through that friendship we were introduced to many very delightful people, and with one Italian couple, Giancomo and Gabriella, we quickly cemented a strong bond.

Hadrian @ All rights reserved

This year, on our flight from Chile to Nice, we opted to fly the most direct route. The long flight gave us a chance to read, sleep, and to talk. At one point we were discussing our friends from Italy, Giancomo and Gabriella, and their Christmas time visit to Chile. Giancomo had planned a business trip from Italy to Buenos Aires, including a stop in Chile, and they spent six days visiting with us in Santiago. 

During their stay in Chile, we whiled away a weekend at a beach near Valparaiso (December in Chile is summertime). At dinner one evening, Giancomo was lamenting his concern with understanding the Spanish at meetings he was attending in Argentina. Though he spoke Spanish socially, his meetings required a bit more Spanish fluency.

Gail had become quite fluent in Spanish during our years of living in Chile and, to my surprise, she offered to accompany Giancomo to Buenos Aires for the two days of meetings. To her credit she did add, "Of course with Rians' consent." I nodded my consent though I noticed that Gabriella glanced toward me with a disquieting look. 

The day Gail returned from Argentina we all had dinner, it was their last evening before returning back to Italy. An excellent meal ended with an hours chat in a corner of the hotel bar. The evening had consisted mainly of talk about what we would do when we got together again in the summer, in Europe. The next morning we drove them to the airport and with lots of hugs and safe travel wishes, they were on their way. On the way home that morning Gail and I spoke about how nice it was to visit with our friends, and how strongly the friendship had grown. Nothing was said about the Argentina trip.

During our bedtime talk that evening I finally inquired about her trip, asking directly if she had slept with Giancomo. Gail deftly avoided answering, in turn questioning me about Gabriella being left behind with me, inferring that my being alone with her for two days surely must have led to something. I assured her nothing happened, though I did not say that my goodnight kisses with Gabriella had evolved into tongue twisting escapades that often left me hard. Gail didn't believe me. Gail admitted that she and Giancomo flirted while on the trip, even kissed goodnight, but she refused to admit to more. I think she wanted me to first acknowledge that her accusation was correct. When I persisted with what was actually the truth, her ruse was, "...well, you telephoned me, you know I had my own room." I felt her recounting of her trip was not true, and it led to several days of tension between us. 

It was in May, as we were finalizing our plans for the summer holiday, that the Argentine trip came up once again. It led to a long and serious talk. We reached an agreement that this years' holiday would be different. Neither of us would begin anything, in Gail's words, "Unless we were both in agreement". 

I quickly added, "Agreement by spoken accord, not by inference," knowing the wiliness of my beloved lady. She had tricked me before with "I thought your lack of comment was acquiescence." 

Though Gail was very shy, and blushed at the simplest issue, I knew her strength. Her education, coupled with a generous character, resulted in her being non-judgmental. She reasoned things out with a self assurance that I envied, without trying to impose her conclusions upon anyone. Likewise, once she reasoned a position, it was hard to budge her from her conviction. It occasionally caused me great frustration, as I was less generous. 

During this years flight to Nice we discussed our yearly trips to Europe and we recognized that each trip offered new opportunities. Gail and I explored our sexuality, experienced new cities, learned about European food, and sailed to grand places on magnificent yachts. And we believe these opportunities - this exposure - created the opportunity for relationships. A few of these encounters led to friendships that went beyond the typical 'see you next year'. Most importantly, it deepened our own relationship.

Somehow the long flight, our talk, and her hugging my right arm for several hours while she slept, emboldened her, or engendered a feeling of guilt. Whichever, when she awoke, she continued to hold my arm while confessing that she had slept with Giancomo during the Argentine trip. She promised to tell me all about it later, and from experience I knew that meant she would tell me the next time we made love. I thought, "Oh, how well this lady knew her man."

Our schedule every year was to first visit Cannes. Gail had become very friendly with Tamara, an elderly English lady living in Cannes. We had met by chance in a café and the several years of communicating had led to a solid friendship. They spoke several times a week throughout the year. They exchanged letters and cards, made big issue of birthdays and holidays, and they looked forward to meeting each year when we went on holiday.

Gail telephoned Tamara from the airport telling her we had arrived in Nice and would be visiting her in about an hour. In conversation a few weeks before we left Chile, Tamara had told Gail that Charlotte and Duncan would not be in France while we were visiting, but that they had insisted we use their boat while visiting in Cannes. Charlotte and Duncan were long time friends of Tamara, and they lived in Cannes on the boat we were invited to use. Gail and I had been on the boat on two occasions and we felt very comfortable with the arrangement.

We took up our rental car and started the now familiar drive from the Airport in Nice toward Cannes. As in the past, it was as if we were coming home. Things felt so very much in place and the usual euphoria started to creep in.

Instead of parking our luggage laden car in front of Tamara's apartment building we headed straight for yacht basin, and the SeaAyre. However, the boat was not where we expected, and we asked the first seaman we encountered if he knew where it was docked. He did, and we quickly made our way to the berth. The Captain having been informed by Tamara was watching from on-board as we pulled our Peugeot alongside, and within moments he was down bedside the car with a young steward. Captain Charles was beaming as he took Gail's hand and almost bowed, then turned to me smiling, "It is our great pleasure to have you on board again Sir." 

"Thank you Charles," I replied, as we shook hands. After exchanging some niceties I asked, "May we leave our luggage in your hands? We plan to come on board later." 

Gail added, "We are going to visit Miss Tamara."

Captain Charles tilted his head and smiled, meaning to indicate that we should know he would certainly oblige us. "Of course, Miss Gail, we will attend to it."

With got back into our car and headed toward the Blvd. Croisette, and Tamara's apartment.

The reunion with Tamara each year became more revitalizing. She greeted Gail as if she were her long lost daughter, even kissing me on the mouth in greeting. For hours we sat drinking first Champagne, then tea, eating delightful English cookies and gossiping. Gail took it all in, not missing a note, asking questions. The gossip was, according to Tamara, to prepare us for "...what to expect this year on the Cote d Azur." We already knew where we were going with Giancomo and Gabriella but she filled in gaps, she informed us that that Gabriella had been to the hospital for three days with food poisoning, and that our friend Peter would be in Monte Carlo this year, alone.

After a cheerful and lengthy visit we were both tired and the Champagne was having an effect. We arranged to meet Tamara the next afternoon, and we departed. The coolness of the evening was settling around the harbor as we parked our car in the car-park and walked towards the boat hand in hand. The quays seemed so quiet, no movement, as if noise or movement would interrupt the cooling process and Captain Charles was waiting for our return.

Gail walked up the gangway in front of me. When I stepped from behind her onto the boat, I noticed a smiling man standing to the left of the doorway to the rear seating area of the boat. The Captain stepped forward and introduced the smiling man as Dr. Girrad. The Doctor stepped forward.

"Hello, I'm Maurice," he said, offering his hand. As I started to answer him, a smiling woman appeared, first through the window of the living area, and then she exited through the center doorway, with outstretched hand as she neared. 

"I'm Brandeis," she said, then repeated, almost all in one breath, "Oh welcome, I'm Brandeis. We have heard so much about you. Charlotte insisted we stay to meet you." 

I watched as Brandeis continued to speak, mostly addressing Gail. Her English, accented with French inflection, was perfect. She was shorter then Gail, her dark hair cropped. Her face was simply angelic, creamy white with little makeup. She had a small cleft on her left cheek that deepened with her broad smile. Her large eyes seemed to sparkle with mirth, and her baggy shorts did little to spoil the shapeliness of her legs. The loose transparent gauze she wore over her shoulders clearly showed the bikini top she wore beneath, and the bulge of her very pregnant belly. As strange as it may sound she was intoxicating, and in the seconds that this all transpired I thought she was extremely sexy, and then I re-thought, judging that the word sexy was too coarse a descriptive for this lovely pregnant lady. 

Maurice and his wife Brandeis were friends of the yacht owners, Duncan and Charlotte. They certainly seemed glad to make our acquaintance and we wondered what Duncan or Charlotte may have told them about us.

We sat together in the living room for ten or fifteen minutes sharing two seven-up's between us. They would be on board for the next few days, then move up toward Monte Carlo, which was similar to our usual plan each year. It would be nice to have their company while on board. Maurice seemed taken with Gail and at one point I had finished commenting upon something to Brandies and I turned toward Gail and Maurice and noticed that Gail was blushing. 

When we were ready to go to our cabin, the Captain appeared and escorted us below. Brandeis came trotting behind him, chattering the whole way. To our surprise we were taken to the same cabin we had occupied before. Here we were in the same suite that filled the width of the yacht, the huge dark wood bed now had a light blue raw silk cover, and the attention to decorating was made obvious by the same blue tone spattered in pillows and curtains throughout the cabin. The look was as sumptuous as before, yet more complete, and we only later learned from Tamara that the art in the suite was changed and was now very special, and Tamara whispered the words "very special."

Finally we started to unpack. We both were exhausted and deep in our own thoughts as we scampered about the cabin. My feelings were reeling around the circumstances that brought us here, and "Imprecionante," was the only appropriate word that I could think of. It never failed to amaze me how a brief conversation with an elderly lady had led to our becoming good friends with Giancomo and Gabriella, how that elderly lady, Tamara, had truly become Gail's best friend despite the distance separating them all year, and they remained close and telephoned each other so often.

I was in bed under the covers well before Gail. I was gazing at the paneled ceiling wondering what this year's holiday would bring. We had planned it during the visit of Giancomo and Gabriella and spent weeks on the telephone afterwards, going over the schedule.

We would spend a week between Cannes and Monte Carlo, then we would all fly to Portugal for a few days, returning to Monaco and sailing on the Gabbiano for the remainder of our holiday. Giancomo refused to tell us the yacht destination, "It will be a surprise, you will adorore," saying the Italian word for adore, "...a surprise even for Gabriella."

The next two days were spent visiting with Tamara, usually starting mid morning until early evening. The second night Tamara invited Brandeis and Maurice to join us for dinner, and she suggested we get dressed. 

We joined on deck at eight and Maurice and I marveled at each others spouse. Brandeis looked so beautiful, her sparse makeup perfectly applied, darkened here and there to highlight her already beautiful features. She wore a combination grey and soft purple outfit obviously made for pregnant ladies. It suited her perfectly, and though her condition was obvious, it did not emphasize her being pregnant. I fixed eyes with her momentarily and I knew she saw I was appreciative.

Gail wore a green flowery wrap around dress that I loved. It softly fit across her behind and had just enough of a v-neck to be tempting. The way she sat dictated how much leg was showing, and without stockings I knew that just a filmy lace panty front kept her from being naked beneath. As we entered the living area Maurice softly exhaled and whispered, "Tre joli," grinning broadly at Gail. I watched her face and neck flush at the compliment.

We rode in Maurice's beautiful Mercedes to pick up Tamara. I went upstairs, escorted her to the car, and ceremoniously placed her in the front seat. I sat in the back with Brandeis and Gail, and Tamara directed us to, of all places, the Hotel du Cap, our favorite hotel on the Cote d' Azur. We were greeted by staff that remembered us, and we felt so very comfortable. The ever thoughtful Tamara had arranged this night knowing that during this year's trip we would not be visiting the hotel.

There are few if any restaurants that can match the service - the grandeur of indoor outdoor surroundings - and the excellence of food and wine, as that served at the Hotel du Cap. The five of us feasted for three hours. Tamara managed the timing with a nod here and a swish of her napkin there, and waiters appeared from nowhere. We started with Champagne and continued with wine. I danced with Tamara and Gail, and later with Brandeis, and Maurice did the same. The music was soft, romantic, and the evening ended at midnight with the pop of yet another Champagne that Tamara insisted we finish.

The tree lined Blvd.Croisette was still alive with movement when we stopped at Tamara's apartment. I escorted her upstairs to her apartment. She pecked my cheek with a goodnight kiss at the door, and patting my arm, bid me adieu with an impish grin saying, "Go my love, you go enjoy the night." 

The walk from the parking to the boat was refreshing, but exhausting for Brandeis. When we were on board she patted her stomach and announced, "My baby and I need some rest," and she hugged us goodnight and retired to their cabin. Maurice stayed and we all walked to the front deck and stretched out in the large cushioned chairs. Gail sat to my left facing the lighted city, and Maurice, after pouring us all sparkling water, sat to her left, slightly turned to face us. At one point I noticed that Gail had allowed her dress to part at the knee and we could see a large part of her thigh. Whether innocent or not, I couldn't say, but it was seductive. 

A half hour later we all retired. I had plans for tennis in the morning, and Brandeis was going to drive Gail to the courts an hour later so she could play. When Gail climbed into bed she cuddled up close and whispered in my ear, "I was wondering when I would get the chance to tell you what happened in Buenos Aires."

"Oh!" I exclaimed. "Did you do something you need to tell me about," I chided. 

"Yes," Gail whispered into my neck through her soft kisses. "Gian was thrilled that I agreed to go, and he certainly showed it."

Soon I was between Gail's legs, my body raised, both arms stiff beside her head, her hands resting on my arms guiding my slow in and out movements, and she proceeded to tell me about her trip to Argentina. The first night there Gail said she spent most of the night in his room. She said that most of the time he had his head buried between her legs and spent what seemed forever, bringing her to one orgasm after another. From time to time he would stop and move up to enter her. He would stroke a few times then push his groin forward, entering as deeply as he could, stopping, asking her not to move as he struggled to contain his orgasm. 

As she told the story I couldn't contain myself. It had been three days since we had made love, and I exploded in Gail long before she was ready to cum. I felt spurt after spurt shooting deep inside her and I moaned, leaning forward to wrap my arms around her. Gail had her hands on my shoulders, holding me softly, allowing me to fill her.

We lay for a while as I allowed myself to recover. I turned on my left side lying against her and began to touch her breasts and between her legs. Propped on one elbow I watched her face as I explored. Her eyes were closed and she would smile and wrinkle her forehead as my touching progressed. I moistened my fingers inside of her and again touched her clit, one time holding it between my thumb and forefinger, the next time rubbing quickly just to the side of it, as I concentrated on bringing her to orgasm. Soon, Gail pushed her groin upwards off the bed and in a quiet and breathy voice said, "Ohh, yes Ri... make me come."

The next morning I played tennis and when Gail did not arrive I played her game as well. It was nearly noon when I returned to the marina. I drove into the car park weaving my way around the rows of parked cars to park closest to the walkway that led to our boat. I reached into the back seat to grab my tennis gear and as I turned around I noticed Maurice's blue Mercedes parked two rows forward and to my left. It looked like someone was in the car. I sat for a few minutes, watching. There were two people in the front seats, and I could see occasional movement, but it was not possible to make out whom. Making a broad sweep around the Mercedes, I made my way back to the boat.

I had just stepped out of the shower when Gail returned to the cabin, she was dressed in her tennis skirt. "Sorry I couldn't get there to play", she said.

"I played your game... not a problem," I said. "What happened?"

"Maurice wanted Brandeis to take some special test and some doctor called from the hospital to say they could take her. We drove there. By the time we were ready to start for the tennis courts, it was fifteen minutes past my game time."

"Where's Brandeis?" I asked. "Is she OK?"

"At the hospital. It takes about two hours." Gail replied. "She's fine. She says that Maurice loves to make her take useless tests."

Our plans for today were to visit with Tamara in the afternoon. She had invited us for tea at the Carlton. This evening Maurice and Brandeis were taking us to a restaurant that Maurice said, "...made the finest bouillabaisse on the Cote d' Azur. Only in Marseilles is it better." I didn't tell him that every Frenchman we met told us the same thing.


Gail Tests Bryan



Immersed in thought while getting ready, it dawned on me that Gail's recounting of her time did not make sense. If she left the hospital fifteen minutes into game time, she would be back at the boat less than twenty minutes later. I thought "Why would she be sitting in the car for thirty or forty five minutes?" I decided to wait for an opportune moment to ask her.

The girls had dressed simply for the evening. Both were wearing flat shoes, Gail had on a beige dress decorated with large colorful flowers. It was cut straight and low across the front and a good few inches above her knees. Around her neck was a set of Polynesian green pearls that I bought her this past Christmas. She looked refreshing and young. Brandeis too was well outfitted for the evening. Her blue on blue dress was really a skirt and top for pregnant ladies made to look like a dress. The skirt was even shorter than Gail's and the top was wrapped so that every move she made hinted at opening, and it was an effort to not stare at her breasts the whole evening. 

We dined at Le Bacon in Cap d' Antibes and the bouillabaisse was truly something special. Surprisingly the restaurant was not expensive and I commented to Gail that we probably had passed by this restaurant a dozen times. Maurice, of all things, ordered a Chilean white wine. I shuddered at the price, back home the wine cost less than half. We drank three bottles of wine in what turned out to be an animated and interesting evening. Brandeis was a quick wit and very well versed in, of all things, impressionist art. Whereas Maurice, aside from being a doctor, was an avid collector of, he said, Egyptology. I could also see that he was very taken up with Gail this evening, and she seemed to be paying rapt attention to him. After dinner we all wanted to continue.

Gail suggested the Hotel Du Cap were we wound up sitting in the bar and roaming off to dance outside near the restaurant. At one point when Gail and Maurice were dancing Brandeis had turned to look out the patio doors. She was directly beside me and I could clearly see down the front of her dress. When she turned back I knew she had seen me starring. If I didn't turn red, I felt like I did. Brandeis just looked up at me smiling. "Let's dance," she said, and she stood and reached her hand for me.

On the dance floor we brushed by Maurice and Gail, we were all grinning like Cheshire's, nothing spoken. Brandeis pushed close to me and managed to make me feel her breasts against my arm. We were more shuffling then stepping around. Her left leg would come between mine and I soon started to get excited, and it embarrassed me. I looked over toward Gail, her cheek was resting against Maurice's shoulder, eyes closed. I pulled my behind back so that Brandeis would not feel my hardness. She raised her head and looked at me. "Don't move away Rian," she softly said, "I like that I can excite you." and she pushed into my back with her right hand, urging me closer. Looking up at me smiling, her eyes partly hooded, I found her so very appealing, and thence onward I brought my groin forward and pressed into her at every opportunity.

For the next while Gail stayed on the dance floor with Maurice and I danced with Brandeis. When we returned to the bar, Brandeis turned her chair even further and she was now facing me straight on. Her skirt had risen to her thigh, and with her feet flat on the ground I could clearly see panties. Her pregnant bulge, the bare thigh, the white of her panties and the idea of what was behind it, was the sexiest thing I had seen. 

"I shouldn't like looking at you," I commented, while toasting before we drank, "but I do."

Brandeis smiled. A good thirty seconds later she said, "I moved so you could see me. I like for you to look at me."

I smiled, mostly for myself, and thought, 'so much for shy ladies.'

Brandeis nodded toward the dance floor. "They get along well...no?" commenting on our respective spouses.

"Yes." I nodded my head. "Very well it seems." 

"Do you get jealous?," she asked.

"Sometimes."

"Now?" Brandeis asked.

I shook my head. "No. Right now I am thinking more about you." But I spoke the words openly, not romantically, trying to take the edge off our previous actions. I found her so sexy but I felt peculiar, almost profane, about feeling that way toward a so very pregnant woman.

When Gail and Maurice returned we paid our check and left. During the ride home we barely spoke. I held Gail's hand, and her fingers were rubbing the back of my hand. 

Once on board we all agreed on a nightcap. While Gail and Brandeis fixed our drinks, Maurice and I went forward and slipped into the comfortable deck chairs. 

"I have a book I'd like to give you," Maurice said. "It's written by a European but it's as close to seeing old Egypt as you can get."

As the girls came toward us with our drinks I responded, "I'd like that."

Brandeis heard me and quickly picked up on my response, "What would you like Rian?"

I jokingly looked toward Maurice and asked, "Am I permitted to tell them?"

It took a moment for him to grasp, then playing along, "Not yet, let's wait until the right time," he answered.

The girls, curiosity piqued, badgered us for the next ten minutes with no luck. We sat peacefully watching the flickering lights of the city and chatting when Brandeis decided to retire. She kissed her husband and Gail, then bent towards me and kissed me on the corner of my mouth, lingering for just a moment. "Such a tease," I thought. "Such a sexy tease." We all followed her in less then half an hour.

I showered and went to bed in minutes. When Gail joined me she was wearing one of my V-necked T-shirts. When she turned to shut the bathroom light, I thrilled at seeing the bottom of her behind peeking out from under the shirt. She slide close to me and wrapped her fingers in mine. We commented on what a lovely evening it had been, and then she asked, "What were you and Maurice talking about?"

I smiled to myself in the darkened room. "Nothing important. Not yet."

"Why won't you tell me?" she responded, with a half laugh.

"It's not time," I quietly answered.

"Well," she sighed, "I could just imagine."

"What do you imagine?" I whispered, and I took my hand from hers and placed it on her thigh.

"Well, knowing you guys, it can't be that hard to guess." Gail said.

"So guess," I urged.

"You were probably talking about us...how ready we may be."

"In a way we were," I continued.

"You see," she responded knowingly, "That was all that was on his mind tonight."

"Do you think that was all that was on my mind?" I asked.

"You seemed to be pretty engrossed in Brandeis," Gail said, then softly pushed at my side.

"Yes, I think she looks so sexy being pregnant," I paused, "but I feel perverted thinking of her that way."

"I'll bet she loves the attention. She's sweet, and she has a handful with Maurice."

"In what way?" I asked.

"He likes women, and he is much practiced, I think," Gail answered.

"Did he try to seduce you," I asked.

I felt Gail's head turn. "No," she answered, pausing, "he tried to sleep with me. He wanted us to swap tonight."

I was quiet for a moment. "What did you tell him."

Gail answered, "I told him that you wouldn't approve."

I responded, "Why you didn't just say no, or that you didn't approve?"

Gail huffed, part laughing, "That's what I said the first time."

I persisted, "What did you think about the proposal?" I emphasized the word you. "Did you want to sleep with him?"

Gail didn't respond for a long while, finally she said, "At the time, I thought it would be nice if you approved. Now I only want you." She turned on her side and started to run her hand across my chest. "Maurice thought you would have gladly gone to bed with Brandeis."

"Maybe he is right, if she were not pregnant." I added, "She is pretty well along. It would feel like I was imposing on the baby's territory."

"Maurice said you were almost making love on the dance floor." Gail included.

"Yes," I said. "She got pretty bold out there." Then I asked, "Did you do the same?" 

"Yes," Gail whispered. "The very first time we walked out to dance. He lowered his hand on my back, laying it flat against the cheek of my behind." Gail moved her head and I looked but could not make out her features in the dark. But her voice sounded as if she were smiling. "Halfway through the song he was actually kneading my behind."

I questioned, "was that all?"

"No," Gail whispered, he soon was hard and not at all bashful about trying to push it against me." Gail paused momentarily, "I let him...it was kind of exciting," she added.

The next morning I arose early and quietly left our cabin heading for the bakery and hot fresh French bread. Maurice's cabin was the first I passed. As I headed down the short gangway the next cabin door was ajar, and I stopped to peer inside. Brandeis was sitting on the edge of the bed rubbing a cream over her stomach. Her night shirt was raised, resting on the bulge of her stomach, and she wore nothing below her waist. Pajama pants lay on the floor in a heap. One leg was resting on the wood frame of the bed, the other in the seat of a wicker chair beside the bed, which caused her legs to open at the knees. The sight was absolutely intoxicating. 

I felt guilty spying on her. Conflicting in my mind was the wholesomeness of her pregnancy, and the sensuality of her nakedness. She looked so beautiful. A tingle in my groin helped freeze me in the doorway, and I stood there a few seconds longer and became hard.


Brandeis must have sensed my presence because she looked up. Her expression of surprise immediately softened and she smiled, "Bon jour Rian", pronouncing my name with her French accent, sounding like "re–ann", while she continued to rub her stomach.

Mesmerized, I answered, "Morning, Brandeis...," repeating, "Good morning." 

"My morning ritual," she pronounced ree-twal, she said, nodding toward her stomach. She was oblivious of the fact that her legs were spread apart, her small crop of dark hair doing little to cover the thin slit of her vagina. I knew I had been starring when Brandeis asked, "Not very elegant...no?"

With whatever composure I could muster I responded, "but very beautiful." I instinctively nodded, repeating, "very beautiful Brandeis," and I turned from the doorway and left. I thought I noted a slight squint of her eyes, a hard to distinguish hint of pleasure, when I said she looked beautiful. 

When I returned to the boat I had hot bread and fresh Chevre. I went to the galley for coffee and Gail and I feasted in the cabin. At first I hesitated telling Gail about my encounter with Brandeis, however, I soon felt compelled to confess. I say confess because Gail and I had agreed we would keep each other informed on this trip. Gail listened, smiled, seemingly untroubled by my fascination. 

Gail was sitting in bed, her back leaning on the headboard. I sat in an armchair, coffee cup on the bedside table, my legs propped up on the bed. We talked of our pending trip up to Monte Carlo, then Gail suddenly returned to the subject of Brandeis. "Did you feel like you wanted to make love to Brandeis," she asked.

I smiled at Gail, realizing it was on her mind. "I was so excited I would have stuck it in her ear," I answered.

"She would have allowed you," Gail assured, smiling back mischievously.

"Why. What makes you think so," I questioned.

"Being pregnant doesn't stop you from wanting sex," she assured.

"How do you know?" I quipped.

Gail ignored my question. "Remember when Melanie was pregnant?" she asked, not expecting an answer. "When Steve didn't show interest in her..." Gail stopped herself, not wanting to divulge anything derogatory about her cousin. Her thoughts adjusted, she continued, "Well, she just was always charged up, wanted sex all the time." Gail lowered her voice, and in a softer tone and smiling she again asked, "Do you want to be with Brandeis?" 

I was unprepared. Say the wrong thing and I ruin the day. Maybe the week. "Why? Why do you ask?" I reversed the questioning, adding, "I know you wouldn't approve."

"Maybe I would," Gail said, again using her naughty smile.

It dawned on me where this was going. I pondered then answered, "Yes. I think I would. And you?" I asked.

"And me what," Gail feigned.

"Oh. I just thought you had some kind of reciprocity planned," I answered. Though I was making light of the issue, I felt a pang of jealousy well through me. I guessed that Gail wanted to be with Maurice and that was why she was so carefully leading me on with Brandeis.

Gail responded with the most innocent of smiles that was supposed to assure me she was not planning her own rendezvous. The conversation waned as I rose and started to make ready for the day, but, I sensed something on her mind.

Our day had been planned by Tamara. Yesterday she informed us that Gail should meet her at eleven, "ladies shopping," she had said, and that we would all meet for lunch at one o'clock. Maurice and Brandeis were invited to join us as well.

I went out to the tennis courts again and returned to the boat in time to leave for lunch with Maurice and Brandeis. Brandeis insisted I sit up front with Maurice. I held the door open as she slowly settled into her seat, obviously taking longer then necessary to close her legs. I loved her teasing but felt uncomfortable with Maurice so near.

When we entered the restaurant La Piazza, Tamara and Gail were not there. We mentioned Tamara's name and the Maitre d' perked up, his nonchalance now transformed to attentiveness. We were taken to a reserved table set for six. Wine was sitting in chillers on the table, and we helped ourselves. By the time Gail and Tamara arrived, we were into our second glass.

They waltzed into the restaurant chattering away, all smiles, in the company of a gentleman. Tamara had invited along another man who she explained away with her apology, "Sorry we are late. We ran into a friend," and gesturing toward the gentleman, she introduced as Milo.

Now Milo was no ordinary looking man. He appeared to have just stepped out of a fashion magazine, Handsome, about thirty years old I guessed, and perfectly tailored in casual brown slacks and a knit upon knit collarless shirt that looked as expensive as the loose gold watch that he was wearing. He had large striking beige colored eyes – ringed in dark brown, and they caught and held your attention. He also looked very trim and fit. As he shook our hands his manner seemed relaxed, disarming, actually made you feel kindly towards him. What one could not help but notice was his very large Adams apple, which days later became the core of a few jokes. 

Tamara took the head of the table and motioned for Milo to sit on her right. As Gail walked around the table to sit beside me, I thought I saw her peek toward Milo, but she kept her eyes averted, acting shy with him. Gail sat to my right with Tamara, to her right. Maurice broke the ice as he started to converse with Milo.

We soon learned that Milo was from, of all places, Azerbaijan. He was staying in Cannes as the guest of a retired French politician. I wondered where Tamara managed to meet him, but that too soon became apparent. Milo, in slightly accented English but with a distinct American slang was telling Maurice that he was on a brief holiday from Dubai, where he was running a construction project for our friend Giancomo.

When Maurice mentioned he sounded American, Milo volunteered that he had lived in New York, and had been in the US Army for two years.

My jealously started to take hold. Why did Tamara want to meet Gail alone this morning? How long had they been together? Why did Tamara say we "...ran into a friend." I found myself starring at Milo, inspecting him. I thought his mouth and lips were so perfect they would have looked good on a lady. Then I was embarrassed by my thoughts, embarrassed I was starring at him, embarrassed because I reasoned that a man shouldn't be inspecting another man like this.

The late lunch went well enough with Tamara spending much time talking with Gail and Milo. Maurice seemed to be in charge of ordering new bottles of wine, and we all drank too much. When we left the La Piazza, Milo asked Tamara if he could escort her home. Somehow, I thought, he had done this before. Maurice and I led the way toward his car, but before we were halfway there, Brandeis and Gail shouted from behind and we stopped and waited for them to catch up. We were passing a small hotel and a window opened into a bar with several tables that were empty and a tiny dance floor with one couple dancing. Brandeis spoke as they neared, "We were wondering if the gentlemen would like to join us for a drink?" 

I was a step behind Maurice and he turned to look at me. I smiled and he turned to Brandeis and Gail, "How could we resist," he answered.

We entered into the little bar and took a table on the opposite side of the room from the dance floor. The taped music was perfect for slow dancing from where we were sitting we could see the upper half of the couple dancing.

Maurice asked Brandeis to dance. I moved my chair closer to Gail. She mentioned that Gabriella had called during the day, that they chatted woman talk for a while and about our pending trip. At the first opportunity I asked, "When did you and Tamara get together with Milo."

Gail sensed my discomfort and promptly answered, "We were together all morning."

I nodded my head, expecting that. "Why did Tamara say that you met him accidentally?' I asked, maybe sounding a little annoyed at the deception. 

Gail looked at me, shaking her head. "I noticed that too," she said. "I don't know why. When I arrived to pick her up, he was there."

Gail was telling the truth. I knew it. My arm was on the back of her chair, I rested my hand on her shoulder, my assertiveness and arrogance driving me. "How long were you in the car, with Maurice, in the port parking lot yesterday?" 

The question was unexpected and Gail flushed. She was looking over the bar at the two couples dancing. She turned to look at me. "We were there fifteen or twenty minutes, talking."

"Why in the car, you could have gone to the boat," I insisted.

Gail was relaxed, her voice quiet, "He was going back to get Brandeis, we had started talking and we just continued."

"There was personal talk, wasn't there?" I persisted. Gail nodded, "A little."

"I saw you lean over," I lied. Gail flushed again, not smiling now. She looked at me with angry eyes.

I continued, "May I ask you these questions, or do you want me to stop now?" I insisted, "Did you lean over to kiss him?" Gail looked at me flushed with annoyance or, I wondered, maybe it was guilt.

"No," she answered. "I leaned over when he took my hand."

Questioningly, I asked, "Why did he take your hand?" Gail fidgeted a bit. I could tell she was considering something, then, having decided to confront me head on she looked into my eyes. "He took my hand and placed it on his lap," she paused, her neck flushed, "to show me how hard he was."

I was nonplused. My mind raced with more questions but Maurice and Brandies were walking toward the table. I smiled to cover up the tension. Brandeis walked directly to me smiling, offering both hands to ask me to the dance floor, "Come Rian," she insisted. 


Maurice sat speaking with Gail as Brandeis and I danced. She melted into my arms and the slow music allowed me to feel her breast against my chest. I would have thought her belly would have kept us slightly apart but Brandeis was positioned just slightly off center and my hardness was pushing against her upper thigh. From time to time she would lift her head and look at me smiling, unspoken acknowledgement that she was participating. Gail and Maurice were soon on the dance floor and made little effort to hide their enjoyment, and we continued for another half hour then left.




Gail Tests Bryan



Gail and I relaxed and bathed in our suite and then drove to the tennis courts and watched a doubles game. We returned to the Port just as darkness started to set in. Maurice and Brandeis were on deck sipping 7 ups. "Glad you returned," Maurice commented, "We are planning to go for pizza, would you like to join us." I looked at Gail and we both nodded simultaneously, "Sounds good," I responded.

We drove to Juan les Pins, ate brick oven pizza, and then wandered along the crowded streets for an hour. On the drive back to Cannes Brandeis seemed revived and full of energy, chatting away from the back seat. But as soon as we were on the rear deck Brandeis announced her exhaustion, "Epuise" I am finished for today," and she reached to hug Gail goodnight. While hugging Gail she smiled toward me, softly saying, "good night Rian," and I saw the glint of mischief in her eyes. Brandeis exhorted Maurice not to be long as she disappeared into the darkness on the other side of the living area. Maurice walked to the bar.

"I think we'll call it a night too," I told Maurice, speaking for Gail and myself, and we started through the living area toward the stairwell, holding hands.

We were halfway through the living area when Maurice called out, "Would you like to see the slinking lady lights?" It sounded like an invitation to both of us but only Gail knew what he was talking about.

Gail kept moving forward but responded, "Sure, give us a few minutes, we'll come see."

When we opened the door to the cabin Gail rushed to the WC. "What are the slinking lady lights?" I asked, standing near the closed door.

"Oh," Gail laughed, "its lights on the buildings that he says form a lady's figure." 

Some minutes later Gail came out of the bathroom. I was standing in my shorts on my side of the bed, ready to brush my teeth. "Why are you undressed?" Gail asked, "aren't you going up with me?"

"No. I don't think he was really inviting me," I answered.

Gail was quiet, it seemed some time before she said, "O.K., I'll go up just to be courteous. Is that O.K.?" Before I could respond she added, "I'll only be a few minutes."

"Yes. It's alright. I'll wait here all alone, pinning for you."

Gail smiled knowingly rejoining "You're such an actor sometimes."

"That's the Chilean in me. We're all actors," I countered. It ran through my mind that I should have been jealous, but for some reason I was not.

After attending to nighttime rituals and looking at a Tennis magazine chart of the earnings of professional players, I realized it had been a good fifteen minutes since Gail had left. I looked at the bedside clock; it was 12:10 in the morning. I read some more and looked again, it was 1:19. I walked to the closet and put on a pair of tennis shorts and a warm-up jacket and walked back to the deck barefoot.

I had experience slipping around this boat unseen, when I had spied on Gail and Duncan during an earlier visit. I simply headed for the aft deck by walking around the starboard side to the wall that surrounded the owners' cabin. When I stepped into the walkway only my head and shoulders were above the metal wall. 

On the Starboard side toward the rear of the boat, there was a metal bridge table that flapped open when it was used to play cards. It was open and Gail was sitting on the table facing the city her legs dangling over the side, both her hands on the table top. Maurice was standing in front of her, facing her very close. It was dark and they were far away, so I was uncertain, but it looked like he was standing between her legs. 

I felt my heart beat faster but strangely enough, I did not feel that wave of jealousy that often crept through me like ice, making my stomach knot. Maurice twisted his body and looked out over the city. I heard sounds of talking but I could not hear what they were saying. I thought that the way he was standing he could easily be able to make love to her, then I castigated myself. I decided, what they were doing was no doubt flirty, but Gail wouldn't flaunt an escapade to the point of fucking him on deck, now.

I decided to rein in my emotions, and return to our cabin. A slight movement from Maurice caught my attention. I could not see how high her dress was but he was closer to her now, well between her legs, and I saw his left hand move to her bottom. Gail seemed to move or slide toward the edge of the table. I also thought I sensed that Maurice had humped forward. Sensed rather then saw, because the movements were so slight, the light so poor. Then he was still. Now Gail's left leg appeared from behind his back, bent at the knee, and it rose a bit, her foot coming to rest on the back of his thigh. Because I couldn't see I could only imagine that she was urging him toward her, and that he had his cock out and between her legs, or in her. Her motion seemed to be bringing him into her and keeping him close. 

Was I imagining things? I hated myself for being so indecisive, then Maurice dropped his hand further down on Gail's behind and in a clear and forceful motion he pulled her bottom toward him. There was no mistaking the move. Gail had been leaning back with both hands on the table, now she lifted her arms and seemed to be holding him with both hands on his upper arms. Maurice was fucking my wife, and they both knew I could have been watching. I wondered if they cared. 

I turned and started back to the cabin. I kept wondering why I didn't feel rage, and I especially took note of the fact that I had not become excited. Then I realized why I was not too bothered. I was very excited around Brandeis, and Maurice and Gail had just made it easy for me to try to be with her, and not feel guilty.

Ten minutes later Gail returned to the cabin. I had turned out the lights so she quietly prepared for bed. Just before getting in she whispered, "You're still awake, aren't you Ri?"

"Yes." I answered, "How long have you been gone?"

"About twenty minutes," she answered, and crawled into bed close to me. "I saw you close the light," she added. "Our cabin light shines out at night. I could see the light from on deck."

"Did you see the slinking light?" I asked

Gail laughed, "Yes, it's some building and park lights that make an image, but you really need an imagination."

I responded, "It was just an excuse. He wanted to be with you."

Gail was quiet, maybe fifteen seconds later, "Maybe."

When she put her leg over mine I placed my hand on it. After some time I started moving my hand beginning at her lower thigh. There was nothing under her short nightgown. When I began touching her thighs and lightly brushing my hand between her legs, she started to rise from bed. "Where are you going?' I asked, holding her leg. 

"The toilet," she answered.

"Stay here a little longer," I insisted.

I moved away from touching near her vagina and she relaxed with my hands on her thighs. After some time I simply positioned my left hand between her legs and placed the edge of two fingers into the slit of her pussy. She was so wet. "You're very wet," I stated.

"Hhmm," she responded. "I'd imagine... It's been an exciting evening."

I bent one finger at the entrance to her pussy and slowly slid it in. Gail didn't resist. "You're soaked," I said. There was no response. After a long pause I spoke softly, asserting, "You've been with Maurice, haven't you?" Gail didn't say a word. My finger was still in her. I moved my finger in a scooping motion and, more in mockery then meaning it I said, "Let me taste... see if it's you." 

Gail quickly took hold of my wrist with both hands, and held my hand between her legs and whispered, "No Rian, please stop...please." 

We both lay motionless, a moment that seemed endless. I felt Gail's body tremble. I put my mouth to Gail's face and as I brushed across her cheek I felt a tear. At first I didn't react. There was another tremble. I had made her cry. I kissed beneath her eye. I kissed her eyes, then her cheeks and her mouth. She separated her lips, hesitating at first, but soon we began to kiss. I was feeling love toward her now. It wasn't often that she cried but when she did, I was always so troubled. I started touching her again, rubbing my chest against her breasts, pushing my hardness against her thigh. For ten minutes we continued fondling, I should say I fondled, kissing her face and neck, and breasts, then I slide forward to move over her. 

Gail gently pushed me back while reaching to take hold of my cock. "Not now Ri," she whispered, and as she edged me back she slide beneath the cover, first kissing my chest, then my stomach and thigh, soon engulfing me in her mouth, tenderly coaxing a sweet eruption. 

That evening, set the stage for the rest of our days in Cannes. We did not speak again about what happened. We were with Brandeis and Maurice another three days. The very next day Gail played tennis with me, we lunched with Tamara, and when we returned to the boat in the evening Maurice was waiting. "Glad you are back. We were waiting for you... to join us for dinner." The last part sounded more like a question. 

"Sure," I said. An hour later we were ready, Gail wearing simple white shorts and a short sleeve pale blue silk blouse without a brassiere. 

We again drove to Juan Les Pins for pizza and salad. Maurice ordered wine and kept up a continuous flow of talk, joking, flirting with all of us, whilst pouring wine. At one point I sensed that Brandeis had been paying rapt attention until that moment, and now, she was doing the talking, flirting with me, exchanging fun quips with her husband and with Gail. When I sensed the change in conversation, it dawned on me that Brandeis knew what happened last night, maybe planned it, and now she realized that we were apprehensive. I didn't say anything to Gail. Neither did I say no when Brandeis suggested that after dinner we go to a jazz place they knew of, "to relax with the best Cosmopolitans."

We finished two bottles of wine. The more we drank the closer to me Brandeis moved, touching my arm, even my leg a few times. When we left, while still in the doorway of the restaurant, Brandeis took hold of me, pressing her breast against my arm, "we'll go to the jazz club for a drink," she half questioned. 

"That sounds like fun," I paused, "but, if you don't mind, Gail and I will head back to the boat.

We have tennis early tomorrow," I lied. I felt Brandeis stiffen. 

"Oh come Rian...don't poop the party."

"Not tonight Brandeis," and I gave a friendly rub on her arm above her hand, purposely rubbing past her hand and bumping into her breasts. "Listen," I continued, "you both go and enjoy, we'll get a taxi here," and I turned to ask the bartender in the restaurant to call a taxi.

"No, no..." insisted Brandeis. "We will take you back."

The next morning Gail and I went to the tennis courts without reservations but we managed to book a court. When we returned Maurice had his car alongside the boat, and both he and Brandeis were on deck. "You want to join us for a quick lunch?" Maurice asked.

"We're meeting Tamara," Gail offered. "We leave tomorrow and...well, it's our last time together until next year." Gail sounded apologetic in not accepting their invite.

Brandeis commented smiling, "Charlotte said that you both were good friends, she thinks you remind Tamara of her daughter." After a pause, "Tamara invited us to join you for dinner tonight," she added.

I looked at Gail and noticed that her neck had blushed crimson. To my knowledge Tamara had never told Gail that she had a daughter. Neither did we know that Maurice and Brandeis would be joining us with Tamara this evening. Gail managed a quiet, "That's great," and struggled a smile."

We had lunch with Tamara, at the same table where she was sitting when we first met. Though Gail and she chatted endlessly, I could tell Gail was holding back. It seemed strange that Tamara had not mentioned that she had a daughter.

While getting ready for dinner that evening, Gail brought it up. "Maybe Tamara had a bad experience with her daughter," Gail stated, just talking out loud.

"When she's ready. She'll talk about it if she wants to." I pondered my comment then added, "Maybe it's just not pertinent to your relationship."

When Gail was ready to leave she turned to face me while looking down at herself. Holding her hands away from her side, she asked, "Do you like this dress?" 

I sucked in my breath, "Wow. You look terrific." Gail's silk dress had the design a Hermes tie for men. It was gold and white print on a medium blue background, with slashes of green. It had short sleeves and was cut just below her neckline. It hung close to her knees, long in comparison to other dresses she owned. What made it 'wow' was the fit. She was braless and it was like looking at her naked. The fit over her behind was so soft and perfect that I asked, "Do you have underwear on?" 

Gail Smiled, mischievously "Do I need underwear?"

I noticed that she had done her makeup differently. Above her lipstick she had made a brown line that outlined her lips. Her cheekbones had a splash of red and she just simply looked angelic. "I hope this fussing is all for me?" I said, meaning it.

We met with Tamara at her apartment and again, Milo was in tow. Tamara gasped when she saw Gail. " Darling," she said, "you look simply ravishing." Gail flushed, leaning in to hug Tamara cheek to cheek. She had arranged for a lady to serve Martinis which we all slowly sipped while Tamara told us a funny story about a Russian Prince she had met in London. I warned Gail to sip slowly because Martinis usually got the best of her quickly. 

It took great effort for me not to keep peeking at Milo and Maurice. Both couldn't help staring at Gail, both looking for every opportunity to chat or start an exchange with her. Gail remained her friendly self, it wasn't in her nature to be mean, but she kept the discourse light and brief.

Maurice was on his third Martini, but still sober as a religious judge.

We finally left for dinner. Milo had a car so Tamara drove with him and, at the last minute Tamara called for Gail to join her. I held fast to Gail's arm and called back, "Tamara...," then for emphasis, "...Darling. We" and I gestured with both hands towards Brandeis and Maurice, "...have plans for Gail, she's riding with us."

Tamara was some ten or fifteen feet away, her expression at first questioning, then she broke into a smile and said, "Oh Rian, how very nice, we love surprises darling, you'll tell us about it later, won't you?" And with that she turned placing her arm in Milo's, and left for his car.

We ate at the Mediterranee, chef's surprise, Tamara said. I'm sure it was more a Tamara surprise. The food was wonderful, the view was spectacular. The wine so well chosen that we were all into third and fourth glasses without realizing it.

Tamara lamented that we would be leaving, Milo told stories about Dubai, and Maurice was full of delightfully sexy tidbits about a trip he and Brandeis had taken to Thailand. Milo and Maurice looked at Gail as often as they could, without annoying me. Brandeis was at the head of the table to my left and between my paying rapt attention to what was going on around Gail, and trying to gape down Brandeis blouse, I was busy.

As we were leaving I mentioned to Tamara that I thought the restaurant was the best kept secret in the city. "Thank you, Rian," she said, "when it comes to Cannes, you would be surprised how many secrets I can pull from my sleeve," she boasted. I didn't respond but I truly believed her.

We continued the evening in the lounge at the Palm Beach Casino. Tamara had reserved a table and we sat one level away from live entertainment, which allowed us to hear one another when we spoke. Tamara organized the seating with Maurice and I seated at both ends with Milo between Gail and Tamara, Maurice and I beside our wives. Maurice quickly whisked Brandeis to the dance floor. When Milo asked Gail to dance she smiled, declined with a pat on his arm, "let me enjoy sitting with Tamara a few minutes," she offered. 

Three men sat at the next table with two girls that I judged were locals. At one point as I returned from the WC, one man spoke to me in passing. He mentioned he was from Jordan, I told him I was from Chile, and thereafter, throughout the night, they made every effort to start a conversation with us. They stared at Gail often, and with intensity, at one point making her blush as she returned from dancing. 

At one point when Maurice asked Gail to dance, she stood and offered to dance with Milo instead, explaining the reason to Maurice. Milo was whispering something into Tamara's ear, while she grinned broadly obviously enjoying his story. Milo looked up at Gail smiling, "please, I'd like to finish telling Tamara..." declining her offer to dance. It was obvious that he was not pouting because of her earlier refusal to dance. When he finished telling Tamara his story, the both of them roared with laughter. Maurice and I danced with Gail and Brandeis and we kept both girls on the dance floor for a good while. 

When Gail returned Milo asked her to dance. The first song or two I sat speaking with Tamara. Brandeis returned from dancing with Maurice and asked me to dance with her. When we returned to the table Gail was still dancing with Milo. When I turned to my left to see where she was Tamara nodded in the opposite direction, "they are there," she said, nodding her head in their direction. They were dancing near the stage, but it seemed that Gail was almost an arms length from him.

We were at the Palm Beach almost two hours when we decided to leave. We bade goodbye to our Jordanian friends. Though we did not speak with them after the first exchange, there was constant smiling and nods the rest of our stay. They all stood up as we left, wishing us well. 

Standing at the door waiting for the cars, Tamara took Gail's arm and guided her to the left of the doorway where the two of them, head to forehead with each other chatted animatedly. With rapt attention I watched and wondered what new scheme was being hatched. I saw Gail raise her hand to her mouth, registering shock. They giggled like two teenagers, leaning close to each other as they laughed over their secret.

A few minutes later we were in the car with Maurice and Brandeis, heading back to the boat. The conversation was about Tamara, and how enjoyable the evening had been. We all had a lot to drink and I expected that Maurice would try to prolong the evening when we were back on the boat.

Nothing of the sort. We stood chatting on the rear deck for just a few minutes then edged below while still talking, and retired to our cabins.

Gail and I were exhausted, we'd had our share of wine, and we hurriedly readied for bed. When Gail turned out the lamp beside her bed she reached over with her right arm and laid her hand to rest on my chest. "Nice evening, No? I volunteered.

"Very," Gail replied.

"I'm jealous," I said.

"Her hand moved slightly on my chest, like she was rubbing me saying nice puppy, "Why?"

"You didn't share the joke with me," I answered.

"The joke? What...oh, when Tamara and I were laughing?"

"Uh huh."

Gail started to chuckle, and she kept it up for a good few seconds. I smiled too, more at her laughter then anything else.

"What's so funny," I asked, now almost laughing just from her being so silly.

Gail didn't turn but she responded with, "Tamara asked me why I was dancing at arms length with Milo."

"Yes," I said, "I saw that too."

Gail explained, "When we first started dancing he was holding me, but he soon became hard. It was really obvious, so I stepped back. Tamara was commenting that if the distance was any indication of size, then the rumors were true."

I questioned Gail, "What rumors?"




Gail Tests Bryan



"That's what I asked too," Gail informed. "Tamara said that Milo's name was really Omar. His nickname is Milo... It's short for 'mile'. And the O stands for Omar." Gail emphasized his name, "Mile – oh." After a long pause, "I guess he's big," she giggled.

I sounded a "Humph," adding, "that's funny that he still keeps the name." 

Gail offered, "Tamara says he hates using Omar." 

I was nodding in consent, "Why did you and Tamara start the second round of laughing?" I asked. "You stopped and started again with Tamara."

"Because"...Gail was laughing again, "Tamara tells me in a very serious tone, Omar means old faithful," and then she adds, "I wonder if the name Omar would have helped my second husband."

I laughed too, more at the thought of this very proper looking elderly lady commenting about her sex life.

I inquired of Gail, "You danced with him. Did he feel that big?"

"I couldn't tell. As soon as I felt him getting hard I moved away." A moment later she added, "But I think he is big."

Our last day in Cannes was spent with Tamara. Gail went to visit her in the late morning and I joined them for lunch. During the morning I passed time with Maurice and Brandeis sitting on the rear deck. Somehow we managed to begin talking politics and I listened to their intelligent analysis of issues. As far as I could assess, the French practiced advanced citizenry, they knew and felt the issues passionately. 

The talk was made more pleasant watching Brandeis move about. She was barley covered by her swimsuit bottom and making herself comfortable afforded me a constant view between her legs as she changed positions. At one point, she placed two fingers on either side of the crotch of her swimsuit, slightly raised her bottom, and loosened them. The result was a good sized space between the cloth and her vagina, which I could clearly see. When she was finished Brandeis looked up at me, smiled, and continued to talk. Our pregnant lady was comfortable, that's what counted most.

That evening we dined with Tamara and Milo. We learned that he would be coming up to Monte Carlo to attend a meeting with Giancomo, and it seemed he had a lady friend joining him as well. During the day I had called Monaco and spoken with our friend Peter. We met Peter on a previous trip to Europe and kept in contact. The year after we met he had taken an apartment in Monte Carlo, begun some business in Europe, and was spending a good four or five months a year on the Cote d' Azur. 

Peter had arranged for us to rent an apartment in his building, actually, he had offered his own. We opted to stay in a hotel while in Monte Carlo and we were looking forward to visiting with Peter.

We left early the next morning for Monte Carlo. We chose the coast road and passed the now familiar restaurants in Antibes. We reminisced as we drove by the very spot where I had parked two years ago with Gail and Samuel in the back. I still get a tingle in my groin every time I think about it. 

We decided to drive straight through and have lunch in Monte Carlo with Peter. He had suggested the bar buffet at the Meridien Beach, where we would be staying. He had insisted on making our arrangements in Monte Carlo, which we would later find to be very much to our advantage. 

Peter asked me to call him when we were thirty minutes away. As we drove through Eze I asked Gail, "would you go ahead and call Peter, I promised I'd let him know a half hour out." As we drove into Menton a short while later, our phone rang, it was Peter. He was waiting at the hotel.

We were excited as we made our way into Monaco. The Meridien is directly on Princess Grace, so we knew the way, and we pulled up to the hotel within minutes. Standing just inside the doorway was Peter with another gentleman.

Peter came out to the car and hurried to Gail's side to open the door. He was dressed in tan slacks with a light beige knit shirt that was collarless. As usual he looked...expensive. The doorman, and the gentleman that was standing with Peter watched as Peter reached for Gail. As she stepped out of the car she bent slightly backwards stretching to hug this huge black man. 

Peter held Gail's hand as he walked around to my side and we shook hands and hugged patting one another on the back. "Good to see you Rian," he said, "real friends are hard to find." I thought that sounded a bit ominous, but I let it go as Peter introduced the gentleman from the hotel that escorted us to our room. Peter came along with us.

We had a room fit for a Sultan. Three rooms actually. After the manager left Peter asked Gail,

"You like it?"

"Beautiful... but," here Gail started to redden, blushing, then she looked at me, "can we afford a room like this?" 

Peter looking toward Gail answering for me, "Of course you can. How much do you think it costs?" 

Gail simply shook her head indicating a ... no idea.

Peter continued, "You are paying for a single room, no view."

Since the view from the panoramic windows in front of us swept the waterfront of Monte Carlo, his comment made both Gail and I giggle nervously. Peter went on, "You are here as a connoisseur of wine, you make wine tours in Chile and you "may" do the same here. They are thrilled to have you."

I imagined that each time we came back to the hotel and walked through the lobby we would feel nervous, like we were being watched. Maybe they would find out that we were not special guests. 

Gail unpacked as I sat chatting with Peter. Without changing we freshened up and headed to the restaurant Bice for lunch. While we were eating Gail commented to Peter, "If they find out they'll probably charge double the normal room rate." Her comment was completely unrelated to what we were speaking about, and Peter and I looked at one another for a moment. I smiled and reached for her hand, she was worried.

Peter smiled as well, sensing her discomfort. "I was only joking," he said. They gave me a special rate because our company is now selling them wine from Italy. I sensed Gail's immediate relief. Her cheeks colored and she sighed, "That's good," she said. 

We had a leisurely lunch, chatting away for almost two hours. Peter brought us up to date on the past years happenings mostly with his new European business. His wife Phyllis seemed to be sending most of her time with their daughter in the U.S. which meant Peter was often away from home. It was two months since he had seen her, and she wouldn't be coming to Europe for another month. After lunch Peter drove us to the Tennis club where we re-acquainted ourselves with a pro from the year before, and booked a court for several days. When we returned to the hotel Peter dropped us off with plans to meet for at 9:30 for dinner.

Gail and I changed and made our way to the hotel pool, to sun ourselves. There were many attractive people around the pool but still Gail managed to shine, at least in my mind. Her bikini, yellow with imprinted large green leaves was pulled high on each side, emphasizing her long tanned legs. When she bent over to place her towel on the chair I noticed a good many eyes watching her every move. 

Our deck chairs were beside each other, and after ten minutes of sun we sat up to order a drink.

"Did you get the impression that Peter was unhappy?" Gail asked.

I knew Gail well enough to know she had to have been mulling something over in her mind, to have asked this question. "No," I answered. "I guess he misses his wife... but unhappy! No."

The pool waiter came and took our order, we continued the thought. "I don't know why, but I sense he is a little different," Gail said.

That evening Gail took a long bath then began dressing for dinner. Only wearing panties, she scurried around the suite for an hour, looking in the mirror at one skirt then another. She seemed to work on her hair and makeup for the longest time. When we were ready to leave she stepped out of the bathroom and sang, "Ta Ta... you like?"

I'm sure I looked an idiot, mouth agape, no answer to her question forthcoming. Finally, "Like?" I responded. "More like in love again. You look stunning." Gail looked up from her lowered eyes with a pleased smile. She was wearing a short silky loose beige skirt and beige shoes with a slight heel, just enough to show off her perfect legs. The open front shoes showed all her toes which were painted a cheerful red. A green, red, and beige blouse of flowing silk was loose and cut low across her chest, held up by the thinnest shoulder straps imaginable. The silk was fine enough to see through but the looseness made it difficult to catch the view of her nipple pressing against the fabric, or the slight swell of her breast. Gail looked absolutely magnificent. 

We met Peter in the hotel lobby. His comments to Gail on how beautiful she looked caused her neck to blotch red, in spite of her effort to accept the comment with nonchalance. Peter was so effusive that even I almost blushed. He drove us to the north-west part of Monte Carlo, almost to the Corniche. We entered a rather non-descript bar that had a kitchen stove behind the counter. The owner knew Peter and immediately cleared a booth and, without our asking he brought three Pernod and water, which Peter kept insisting was really Absinthe. We ordered our food partly from a menu and partly by walking behind the bar and looking into the pots. Had we known we would have dressed more casually.

The food was out of this world. Large hunks of fish stewing in a tomato and wine sauce with whole tiny onions. Lamb shank with onions, topped with a rich brown sauce, zucchini and eggplant served in layers with cheese in between, like lasagna, but with a most flavorful white sauce that the owner said was made with walnuts. We tested everything, drank two bottles of wine, and had too many, absinthe..? and spent a good two and a half hours in the bar. It was a place to eat and drink, ambience was not on the menu. The owner immediately took to Gail fussing over her the whole evening. She took advantage of her flared skirt every time she moved, and all evening long her blouse caused us to hopefully endure a chance to see her breasts. When Gail had to reach across the table or lean forward our hearts skipped a beat. Once or twice I was entertained with a quick flash of her breast, even her nipples, and not a single movement was lost on Peter.

As we drove home Peter asked, "Was it worth the drive?" Since you can't go anywhere in Monte Carlo that is far, we laughed. Instead of a five minute drive it was ten or fifteen minutes. Peter was driving, I was beside him. From the back Gail chimed in, trying to sound British, "It was very bourgeois... but oh sooo good." 

I thought there was a bit of slur in Gail's speech and I wondered if my darling was tipsy. "How in heavens name did you find that place?" I asked. 

Peter replied, "Actually, he found me. A friend told him some of my specialty wine pricing and he called. I made a deal with him. He buys a table wine we have, I give him a large discount, and I get a very large discount at the restaurant." Peter looked at me with a childish grin, happy with what he had accomplished. 

He asked questioningly, "You're coming to my flat...O.K.?" 

"O.K." I answered.

Gail giggled from behind us, "That's if we stay awake."

We had been in Peter's apartment before, and we were not prepared when Peter stepped aside and asked us to enter his now finely decorated dig. The apartment had been completely redone, the walls were different colors in each room, large comfortable chairs everywhere, a long wrap around leather sofa, paintings in every space on the walls, curtains on curtains of soft matching colors, and the place looked like a House Beautiful luxury apartment advertisement.

"Wow!" Both Gail and I exclaimed, almost simultaneously. 

Peter looked at me grinning with pride. "It's about a week old, just finished. I had to push them to finish before you arrived."

"It's absolutely gorgeous," I stated, "and even that's an understatement." What Peter had said was registering in my mind. To me it was an affirmation of his connection with us, that he viewed us as important enough to push the finish, to have it ready for our arrival. Gail led us on a walk through the apartment room by room. When finished she stepped toward Peter and placed her right hand on his arm, "Oh Peter! It's so beautiful. You should be very proud." Peter stepped closer and wrapped his large arms around Gail, hugging her to him. Gail leaned to her left, her hands on his chest, and without pushing him away she managed to keep her upper body slightly distanced. I saw her cheeks flush, her neck reddened as she blushed.

Peter spoke, "I'm glad you like it." After a brief pause he stepped back, holding Gail at arms length, "Truth is the only people whose opinion I care about are the both of you," and he turned toward me indicating inclusion. 

Gail and I returned to the living room. She seated herself in the center of the leather couch and leaned forward to browse a picture book about Lady Di. I stepped toward the sliding balcony door and stood marveling at the city lights. Peter was busy opening Champagne because we heard the pop.

Gail was leaning toward the coffee table turning pages, when Peter walked in with two glasses of Champagne. Her blouse front hung loose at the top, just enough to afford him a glimpse of her breasts. He stopped in mid stride, glasses still in hand, and a smile spread across his face. Then he looked toward me. I smiled in return and walked around the couch to almost stand beside him. I could see almost all of her left breast. From where Peter was standing, he probably saw most of her right breast. When Gail sensed we were starring she looked up at the two of us momentarily puzzled. Then she too smiled, and placing her hand over the blouse, she shook her head and stated, "You fellows."

I sat beside Gail and Peter sat across from us. We chatted for about ten minutes when the phone rang. Peter answered the excused himself saying he had to take the call. I took off my right shoe and placed my leg half onto the couch and turned toward Gail. "I could see most of your breast the way you were leaning."

"Sorry," Gail said, turning toward me with a soft smile. 

I noted that she looked like she was getting tired when I commented, "It looked beautiful, nothing to be sorry about." 

After some time she whispered, "Thank you," she flushed again, "do you want to see more?" She was smiling mischievously.

"Yes," was all I replied.

Gail struggled to keep her glass balanced in her right hand and leaning slightly forward she tugged the front of her blouse open to let me look.

I couldn't see much, I needed to be above her. Instead I reached out with my right hand and cupped her left breast over her blouse. She smiled, and stayed leaning forward. I sidled a little closer allowing her to sit more comfortably, and began touching her breasts with both hands, first over her blouse then moments later I reached inside. 

Gail interrupted me long enough to place her glass on the coffee table, and then leaned toward me supporting herself with both hands on my upper thighs. We could hear Peter speaking in the next room. I allowed her breasts to hang just out of reach of the palms of my hand then, inching upwards I started to rub her nipples across my palm. 

"Mmm," Gail sounded softly, "feels so good." As an afterthought she whispered, "What if Peter comes back?" Both her cheeks blushed red patches.

I responded, "Mmm," and kept touching her nipples. Gail's eyes closed. A minute or so went by when Gail raised her hands to my face and began to kiss me. I placed my right hand behind her back pulling her toward me, while taking her whole breast in my left hand and pressing against it. I noticed that I did not hear Peter speaking any longer. My tongue was exploring every part of her mouth, between her teeth and lips, around her tongue. Gail kissed so softly, it seemed to force you to want to hold her, protect her, get deeper into her mouth. 

Gail pushed away in an urgent move and quickly folded her legs beneath her, sitting on her heels. Being directly in front of me permitted her to lean her body into me to continue the kiss. My left hand was massaging her breast, my right hand rubbing from her upper back to her buttocks. Gail reached to my groin pressing me. Realizing I was not hard she turned her hand and placed it flat against my cock over my pants, pressing gently, then releasing, pressing again, rubbing a little. 

I sucked on Gail's lower lip until I could feel it in my mouth. Her kisses were wet, a sure sign that Gail had had her share of wine. I placed my right hand on her chin while I turned my head to cover her whole mouth with mine. For no reason, I opened my eyes and there was Peter, standing three feet from the couch and just behind Gail. 

Peter shook his head and placed his forefinger to his lips in a 'Shh.' motion. I continued kissing her, maybe ten or fifteen seconds more. I felt Gail stiffen. She kept her mouth to mine. I opened my eyes again and Peter had his hand on her back. Gail's eyes remained closed. Peter was standing, slightly bent at the waist, his hand moving gently across her back. I resumed touching both her breasts, this time lifting her blouse so that her breasts were uncovered and my open hands rubbing circles, bending her stiff nipples on my palms. I felt movement as the couch shifted with new weight. 

I ended our kiss and started to nibble my lips across her cheeks to her neck. Gail tilted her head giving me better access. I kept opening my eyes. Peter now had two hands on her back and he was staring at his hands. I assumed he was rubbing her bare back. I moved my left hand from her breast and softly rubbed down her side and across her tummy. I stopped kissing and leaned back making space for me to place my hands between her legs. I looked down. Her skirt was high on her thighs, by leaning just an inch backwards I could see her white lace panties. My hands continued to her thighs and I started to harden as the flat of my right hand moved over the inner flesh of her left thigh, my thumb brushing against her panties. 

I was amazed that Gail was allowing this to happen. It was also unusual that she had not asked to turn down the lights. Both my hands were on her thighs, palms turned outward, gently rubbing, allowing my fingers to creep into the folds of her leg, brushing around the edges of her vagina. Peter's hands crept around her chest from behind and lay flat across both breasts. Her blouse was raised over her breasts and her nipples were hard nubs peeking through his fingers. Looking down between Gail's legs was so exciting that I simply concentrated on touching her. I moved the lace of her panties to the side, and repeatedly dragged the whole my finger through the slit of her pussy moving from bottom to top. Gail was wet. Her head was straight, her eyes squeezed shut as if she were deeply concentrated, and her cheeks were flushed red. 

Our touching her was having its effect, I felt little shivers of excitement run through her body. I was still looking down and I did not know that Peter was playing with her behind until I cupped her pussy in my hand and felt his hand beneath her. I skirted my finger around her clit, certain that if I touched it she would have an orgasm. I was too excited to rush. Prolonging Gail's pleasure became my own. 

I started running my fingers through the slit of her pussy, stopping just short of her clit. From time to time I would squeeze the fleshy side of her pussy while slipping my finger inside. Gail shivered each time, occasionally softly mewing from her throat, "Umm." Every so often she would slightly thrust her groin toward my fingers, and equally as often she would withdraw, as if to meet some other pleasure from behind.




Gail Tests Bryan



Peter's naked left leg appeared on the back of the couch above me, his foot reaching as far as my upper arm. I was surprised he did not have his pants on. It seemed we had been pleasuring Gail for an hour. More likely it had been ten or fifteen minutes, and my arm was strained and tiring. I was so hard that my cock pressed in the confines of my pants was painful. I needed to make love to my wife.

I sprang from the couch and whilst standing beside it started to take off my pants. Gail opened her eyes momentarily, her look glazed and lustful. She immediately closed her eyes as Peters right hand made its way across her belly toward her pussy. Peters' pants were on the floor beside the couch. I started toward the wall where the lights were controlled. Peter had his right leg bent and resting on the floor, the side of his leg pressed against Gail's thigh. As I stepped to pass him I saw his very large cock, hard and black sticking more then halfway up Gail's back. It looked like his balls were buried between her buttocks. 

I switched off the lights and immediately returned to the couch with two pillows for a head rest. I squatted in front of Gail. The leather was warm against my bare behind as I forced my legs underneath her. She lifted a little to help. I ran into Peters behind but I kept pushing and as my legs wedged beneath him, he lifted up. Gail opened her eyes and was looking down positioning herself to be above me. I slid down until my hard cock was resting against her. Instinctively Gail placed her hand over my cock, pressing it against her. I felt the couch shift and I saw the leg that Peter had stretched beside me being withdrawn. 

Gail leaned forward, raising herself so that her pussy was directly above my cock. She was looking down to where we joined. Bending forward, still holding me, she started to rub the head of my cock through her pussy, exactly as I had done earlier with my fingers. I felt Peter place a big cushion or pillow across my legs behind Gail. Peter was squatted over the cushions and close behind her, probably still resting his cock on her back. 

Gail finally centered me and slid forward and down in one motion burying half of my cock into her warmth. As I went into her she lifted her head upwards, eyes closed, and softly groaned "Ohhh, aahh..." then whispered, "it feels so..." and without finishing she pushed forward and took me completely. Through hazy eyes I looked at her face. She was disheveled, her blouse wrapped above her breasts, her skirt bunched up around her lower belly, her lace panties pushed to one side, but she looked beautiful. Peter had one hand on her breast pulling and rubbing her nipples. Part of his arm was sticking out at the level of her behind, busy doing something else. 

Gail started a rhythm rocking forward and back, taking me deeply, then sliding me out. I looked at her eyes, squeezed tightly shut, concentrating on the pleasure we were giving her. The sight brought back memories. I had seen her like this before. My mind burrowed deeply trying to recall where, when, I had seen her in such absolute abandon.. My cock slipped out of Gail as she moved too far back. Her hand was there to immediately position me again. She opened her eyes and saw me starring at her face. She must have seen the tenderness in my eyes because her lips curled in a momentary smile, then she went back to loving me, this time with more energy.

Gail started to tremble again. I could feel her pussy contracting in an impending orgasm. She quickened her pumping. I pushed upward, trying to get more of me into her. Gail moaned breathily, "Ohhh Ri, ohhh." Her hands were on her legs, she was pumping in a hard and unbreakable rhythm. "Ohhh Ri baby, cum with me, cum." I was looking down my chest trying to see my cock as it slipped into her. Her sliding motion made it hard to see. Every few pulls back she would lift a little and I would glimpse half of my cock, glistening as it made its way out and quickly entered her again. 

I reached to place my thumb over her clit and Gail pushed my hand away. She continued humping against me trembling as she neared orgasm. Suddenly she stopped moving, whimpered a soft and lengthy, "Umm...ahhh, Ri, ahh," and I felt her pussy contracting, gushing cum pulsing, once, twice, again and again. It went on and on first quick recurring pulses, then more slowly. Finally Gail bent forward and laid her head on my shoulder, her mouth up against my ear, her breath warm on my face. 


Now I could see Peter. His big hand making sharp black on white contrast as he slowly rubbed the center of her back. He looked at me and simultaneously both our faces softened in a brief smile. I held Gail close to me for a long time. She never moved, I thought she was sleeping.

Peter was still touching her back. I mouthed to him, "She's sleeping." He smiled and shook his head. He didn't think so. 

Peter started moving his hands in a wider arc. First her back, then the small part of her breast that was bunched against my chest and sticking out. I realized that her position with her legs still on the outside of my body, must have left her pussy and behind very exposed. Peter lowered his head and started to kiss her back and the cheeks of her behind. Gail moved, lifted her head and placed her mouth over mine and began to kiss me.

Peter must have been encouraged by her passion as moments later Gail grunted, "Unnghh," momentarily halting her kiss. Without dislodging Gail, I managed to move my head to see what Peter was doing. It looked like he was kissing her behind, his head was straight and his mouth seemed perfectly centered with her back nub. I wrapped my arms around Gail and gently sucked her tongue until I controlled the movements of our kiss.

Our kissing lasted a long time, many minutes. I felt Gail begin to shake, first imperceptibly, then with mounting abandon. Peter had his head buried in her behind and was rhythmically moving his head in a fucking motion. Gail kept her mouth on mine until the trembling peaked. She moved her mouth an inch away and gasped into my open mouth, "Hhuhhh." She twisted her body downward, reaching behind her with her right hand. Her hand was searching for Peters cock and he quickly assisted her pursuit. 

I couldn't see her hand but her body movements indicated she was playing with him. Gail cushioned her breasts on my chest, and opened her legs a little more. She was enjoying Peter's attention, once or twice moving her bottom from side to side. I lifted my head and all I could see was the top of Peters head. He had stretched both her cheeks wide apart and was completely buried between them. This went on for five or more minutes when I felt Peter shift. I raised my head again and I saw his arm draw back. I couldn't see his hands but Gail's body tensed momentarily then she sighed, letting out a long breathy "Ahhhh."

I couldn't tell if Peter had put his fingers in her pussy or her behind, but Gail was slowly rhythmically moving her groin. After a minute or two Gail seemed to have made a decision and she suddenly rose up on her arms and slid her legs off the couch. Peter and I both followed her rise wondered what had happened. 

Gail was looking at me intently as she unhooked her skirt and stepped out of it, and then bent to take her panties off. It only took a few seconds. Naked from the waist down she looked at both of us, first me, holding my eyes for a long moment only to see if I disapproved. She was blushing with the gaze, flushing red spots on her neck. Then she glanced at Peter, and in a deliberately slow movement she smiled and slipped her blouse over her head. 

Standing naked just inches away I marveled at her beauty. A light burning somewhere in the apartment and the city light from outside shadowed the room. Gail's face was bathed in desire, the soft shadowy light made her body look like a work of art. Her nipples were pointed and her lips curved in a smile that permitted you to entertain any fantasy you wanted, she could make them all come true. Strangely, incredibly, I felt a wave of pride.

Peter was on his haunches, naked, his huge cock sticking up like a sentinel. Gail looked at him and I saw her gaze move toward his cock. Quickly the pride changed to a jealous pang. All that had occurred from the time when Gail stood up happened in such a brief sparkle of moments. Peter and I were still in the same position on the couch. Gail moved toward us and turned, lifting her right leg to step onto the couch her legs again on both sides of my legs, this time with her back to me.

I watched Gail lean slightly forward bowing her head to look down. I assumed she was touching Peters' cock, but I couldn't actually see her hands. Gail's behind was over my lower belly and my flaccid cock was beneath her pussy. Now and again I would see Peters' long fingers showing on the side of her breast as he touched her. They fondled each other a good while. I heard Peter say, "I need to move," and his left leg again appeared stretched out beside me and against the back rest of the couch. He did the same thing with his right leg and propped it on the couch, his foot just below my shoulders. Gail lifted first one leg and then the other, to straddle Peter's legs. I was sandwiched beneath them with my head less then a couple of feet distant from Gail's back, and her behind, which was slightly parted because her legs were stretched. 

Peter was sitting leaning forward, his weight starting to tell on my legs. Soon he laid back, his head and shoulders supported by the arm of the couch, his bottom resting on the cushion that lay across my legs, his weight now hardly noticeable.

Gail bent far forward. I was surprised at how her behind cheeks parted with the motion, putting the bud of her open behind in direct view. It was so close. Instead of paying attention to what she was doing, I concentrated on her behind. I was in awe at the perfection of the lines encircling her rear bud, mostly at the pinkness all around. The firm cheeks of her behind, perfectly proportioned, even her tan lines had symmetry. I shook my head marveling at her perfection. 

A loud slurping sound ended my musing. Gail and Peter laughed. I edged my head to my left to see. Gail was kissing and sucking on Peter's breast. Her left hand was under her stomach, moving, presumably rubbing Peters' hard cock which was trapped under her belly. I could see Peters' right hand touching and pulling on her breast. They fondled that way for a few minutes, with no participation on my part.

Finally Gail sat up straight on her haunches and slid forward. I could now see between her legs, and Peters' cock when it popped up. Gail leaned slightly forward and bowed her head. At the same time her right hand came behind her and reached between her open thighs, she twisted somewhat and passed Peters" cock from her left hand to grip it with the finger tips of her right hand. She rose a bit higher and aimed it at her center. It seemed so big. Again I could not imagine how anything that big could fit into the willowy body before me. My wife was too slight, too fragile I thought.

Gail placed the head of Peter's hard cock between the lips of her pussy. I held my breath. Less then half an inch of his cock was between her lips when Gail rubbed it several times from front to back. When she stopped he was centered and Gail gently pressed downwards. I felt Peters' legs tense as he thrust upward to meet her. The head of his cock slipped between her lips and disappeared into Gail. 

She had her head bent forward, watching from the front. Looking between her legs I caught glimpses of Peters' face. His chin was close to his chest, he was watching too. His cock and Gail's hand blocked most of his face from my view but it was obvious we were all focused on the moment his cock started to slide into her. When his cock head was inside of Gail, she removed her fingers and wrapped her whole hand around the base of his cock. Her fingers did not converge. She sat still for what seemed a long time then she thrust downwards and his cock slide a good three or four inches into Gail. What an erotic sight. There was still a considerable amount of cock above her hand that had not entered. Gail sat still. The only sound was the release of the breath I had been holding.

Gail let go of Peters cock and sat straight up, leaning back and rested her hands on his thighs just slightly behind her back. She then started to slowly rise and slide forward pausing, getting accustomed to his size then repeating the motion. She allowed his cock to slide almost completely out of her pussy before beginning the reverse movement to take him back inside. She didn't allow him to slide any deeper. The cheeks of her behind were pressed tightly closed, her back slightly bent when she pressed forward. I knew the position well, her eyes would be closed tightly now, she would be concentrated, reveling in the first sensations.

After several minutes Peter sighed, "Ohhh... ssweeet."

My cock was now beneath Gail's behind, and in spite of this very erotic scene, I was not hard. Suddenly Gail's right hand was behind her back beckoning me with her fingers. I placed my hand in hers and she pulled it towards her behind, signaling me to touch her. I placed my hand flat on her behind and softly smoothed over her right cheek. I could feel the muscles beneath as she slowly humped forward taking her time to become accustomed to his size. 

Gail now sat upright and placed her hands on Peter's chest and leaned forward. Without warning everything came into my clear view. Her position opened the cheeks of her behind, her stretched pussy was now just inches before me. Peter's cock was embedded in her like an attachment, sliding deeper and deeper each time Gail moved forward. She was still moving slowly. When he slid out the inside of her pussy would cling to his cock like a perfectly rounded ring of pink flesh. His cock was huge, and so black in contrast to Gail. I could see the bulging vein running down the bottom of it, and it was wet and shiny. Gail's wetness must have been increasing because each time his cock pulled out I would see small clear droplets at the bottom of her pussy.

I was overwhelming for me . Like watching TV with the square of the screen focused on Peters' cock and balls, and Gail's pussy. The steady humping continued for ten maybe fifteen minutes. Gail was now sliding all of his cock deep into her belly, hesitating for a moment when he was completely inside. At that moment she would occasionally emit a soft and breathy "Uhhhh." 

When Gail bent forward and everything came into view, my cock twitched. As I brushed my hand over her behind, exploring her back nub, even touched my finger to the back of her pussy and touching the wetness, I was also touching myself. Though I hadn't fully recuperated from cumming earlier, I was hardening and full of lust in spite of my conflicting emotions at the sight before me. 

Feeling Peters' legs signal each movement he made, seeing his glistening cock slide so deeply into Gail's belly was so erotic. But, it was also unnerving. By looking at Peters' cock and Gail's back, I tried judging how far into her he was going. It seemed to work out that he reached her shoulder blades. The thought was so silly that I erupted with a throaty half laugh "Huh," in an all to myself moment.

Gail was now moving faster, she had started a soft "Hhuuu," each time she thrust down and had him fully inside. Their speed increased and Peter must have been forcefully pushing into her because each time his legs tensed his behind would rise to meet her. 

Gail's sounds changed to a throaty "Uuhhahh," each time he shoved himself into her belly. With my hand on her behind I felt her begin to tremble. At first intermittently then increasing in duration. Each time his glistening cock fed fully into her the trembling was stronger.

Peter moved his leg higher up the couch and using the back for leverage as his legs tensed and his behind rose to meet Gail. His groin began to rapidly move back and forth. As Gail slide downward and his cock disappeared she stopped sighed deeply and breathed "Aaahh Peter...yeess, ohhh," and from the tension in her behind I could see that she was pushing hard against him.

Gail bent forward completely, her breasts now resting on Peter's chest. She had her head buried into the couch to the left of his face. His arms were wrapped around her middle. Gail had one hand on the back of the couch beside her head, the other braced against the couch arm on the right of Peters face. Her behind was now opened even wider. His cock, glistening black, was rapidly moving in and out of Gail. Her trembling had increased. This was something we had never before experienced. 

"Uuuhh, yees Pet...uuhh yeess," Gail sighed as their humping increased in force. Gail finally signaled her orgasm, "Yes...do it...I'm going to...," she was humping so hard that it was difficult to catch her breath. Parts of her back were shiny with sweat, Peters balls were knotted up into a black ridged ball. His cock seemed to be swelling at the base and I could not imagine how Gail was taking all of this inside her belly with such force. He was masterfully stroking into her depths with feeling and increased speed. I was hard, rock hard.

Surreal was the only word that captured the moment. My face inches from her behind, her pussy and back nub in full view, Peters cock pounding into her as she groaned and sighed, trembling as her orgasm approached. Her pussy was soaking wet, the wetness spread across my lower belly and thighs. I pressed my cock into the crack of Gail's behind burying an inch or two between her cheeks. She was wet there too. The way I was pinned beneath them, it was impossible to penetrate her.

Gail made one final thrust downward onto Peter's cock, her body trembling forcefully and she almost screamed, "Yeees," then a series of "Aaahh," and finally a very breathy "Ohhh...ahhh," as she went deep into her orgasm. All of Peters cock was in her. His behind was pressed upwards, lifted off the cushion. Peter was still moving slightly, making swaying movements. A creamy froth started to form around his cock at the entrance of Gail's pussy. Gail's body convulsed with each wave and "Oohh" that she sighed. I had never seen her so wet. Cum was now leaking down the inside of her thigh onto Peter and me. 

Finally Peter grunted "Aagghh," and pressed upward noticeably lifting Gail as he started to cum in my wife. I felt Gail's body soften as she felt him begin his orgasm. She lifted her head from the depth of the cushion and placed her cheek against his, while placing her hand on his arm, as if to show tenderness while accepting his seed. I was intoxicated with the sight and sound and confused with my reaction. His orgasm rose in intensity with shivers and thrusts, the only sound was Gail's "yes...do it...do it." Gail lay still allowing him to pump his cum into her belly. I could see and feel slight twitches of his behind as surge after surge emptied into Gail. I stopped pressing my cock against her behind and watched her receive his cum. Finally, the cheeks of her behind tightened when he was spent, and they both slowly drifted back to normalcy.

There was absolutely no movement or word spoken for a good four or five minutes. Gail moved first. She backed her behind away from Peter's cock and it just kept on coming out. Finally there was a plop as his cock flopped out of her pussy. Slithers of cum were draped over his cock and Gail's pussy was stretched and dripping. Gail immediately placed her hand between her legs to hold the wetness inside. She rose from the couch and looked down at me, her eyes glowing with that relaxed after sex glaze. Her hand still between her legs, she bent down and softly kissed my lips, then walked toward the toilet.