40 comments/ 64305 views/ 6 favorites You'll Always Have Paris By: StangStar06 The harvest moon shines down on me as I duck through a hole in a fence that was once at least partially mine. I look around to make sure no one is out here to see me. Except for the occasional sounds of the farm animals and the insects, the night is silent so I move on. I cross into the cornfield and notice that the corn is already thick and very high. I try very hard not to make any noise as I stealthily move through the stalks of ripening corn. In the center of the field there's a small clearing where all of the corn stalks have been cut down to the ground. It's a relatively small area, and in the heart of the field can't be detected from any direction except directly above. Its placement doesn't even allow it to be seen from the upper levels of the farmhouse that I spent most of my life making into a home. Even in the middle of the day this small clearing can't be seen unless you're flying directly over it. "Took ya long enough ta git here," said Bert, as I stepped into the clearing. "I was trying to be quiet," I whispered. "I didn't really expect you to be on time anyway," he sighed. "You were always late for everything even back when ..." he stopped in mid sentence and I wondered what he was going to say. There were so many ways that he could have completed that sentence. "Back when we were married," was one way. "Before you became a whore or slut," was another. The one that hurt the most of course would have been, "Back when we were in love." But Bert didn't say any of those he just motioned with his hands and I lay down on the soft ground. I pulled my skirt up and removed my panties. Bert knelt down between my legs and started to rub my vagina. He was very gentle, and I began to moisten almost immediately. Perhaps it wasn't his gentle stroking, maybe it was just the fact that he hadn't called me in two weeks. He inserted his finger in my vagina and began slowly moving it in and out a little at a time, then inserted a second finger when I began whimpering quietly. "Bert I'm a big girl, I can take it," I hissed. It wasn't that I wanted him to hurt me, but I wanted his dick in me so bad that I was prepared to take a little bit of discomfort to get it. It wasn't just a want, it was a genuine need. I found myself at times dreaming of Bert making love to me in the big soft sleigh bed in the farmhouse. I wanted to feel him kissing me and ramming his big dick in me hard, and cumming deep inside my vagina. Bert was 45 now, and I was 39, so It wasn't out of the question to hope that he could get me pregnant one more time. But it would probably never be. Bert squeezed my breasts and gently pushed his dick into my opening, filling me with warmth. Almost involuntarily my legs spread even farther, as he began thrusting himself inside me. He used slow and steady strokes at first then gaining in both force and tempo until he was just slamming me. I watched his face intently this time, to see if what I'd seen 2 weeks ago was real or not. As he continued stroking my pussy I noticed that he had closed his eyes, and was making that face that only a wife, a lover or a mother could love. Then he lowered his body onto mine until we were united down our lengths. His arms reached around and under me as if he was trying to pull me inside of him. I was watching his face so intently that I lost touch with what my own body was doing. My own orgasm caught me completely by surprise, and I felt my legs clutching him desperately. My own arms pulled him further into me as his pulled me into him. "Oooooh" he exhaled, though he was trying not to make any sound. There it was he lowered his face to mine and as he lost control of his bodily functions temporarily as he came, I saw it. I was very sure now. Suddenly he stopped moving his face towards mine, but his lips had already started to pucker. I quickly raised my own lips and kissed him before he got out of reach. I would have given every dime I had in the bank right now, to feel his semen spurting inside of me the way he used to, but he had shot all of his baby juice into a condom. He quickly turned his head to the side and spat then wiped off my kiss, but it was too late. I knew that he had wanted to kiss me while he was fucking me. And the look in his eyes told me that no matter what, there was hope. That maybe someday, there might be more. No matter how guarded he tried to be, I was sure from that look that way down deep inside of him, he still loved me. Maybe someday when all of the pain and hurting was over, there'd be more than what we had now. But if all I could hope for was these late night booty calls, I'd take them. "Gotta go, T...," he began. "Miranda will probably wonder where I am." He must really be off his game tonight, I thought. First he lets his guard down so I could clearly see that there might be a little bit of love left for me. Then he almost kissed me, and didn't slap me when I kissed him. But now this was really big he had almost said Tina, he had almost used my name. After over a year of referring to me as whore, or slut, or skank, he had almost called me by name. "Bert, can you make it tomorrow?" I asked. "Please don't make me wait 2 weeks again." "I don't know," he said slowly. "I've been trying not to call you at all. I hate myself every time I do. I'm just weak and worthless. Miranda deserves far better." As Bert slowly headed back to the house, I knew that he'd circle back by the barn and then go to the house. That way if Miranda was looking for him; she'd think he'd been in the barn. I lay there on that soft ground with a warm feeling inside me. Then on a whim I looked around in the moonlight and found the used condom he'd discarded. I licked the end of it with my tongue and then swallowed all of the contents. It should have been mine anyway. It used to be mine. Bert used to kiss me all the time, now he wouldn't kiss me if his life depended on it. Even when there was no one around to see it, he just wouldn't do it. He used to love eating my pussy, now he wouldn't even allow me to give him a blow job. He used to beg me to do that. I picked myself up off the ground and started slinking back through the corn to the road. From there I'd just walk the half mile to my little house. I'm sure a lot of you are wondering why a 39 year old woman is sneaking around and fucking in cornfields like a high-school whore. It wasn't always this way. Bert and I used to be married. There was a time when that man loved me like there was no tomorrow. We were high school sweethearts and we married young and we still have 2 beautiful children, who moved to the big city when they got done with school. We had a great life. Our house and farm are beautiful. We don't have to worry very much about what we grow or when, because we grow corn and a couple of other staple crops for one company. A big supermarket chain uses our crops to make their own store labeled products. Good steady money every year. Not like some farmers who have to scrape and just barely make it. We were very lucky. I guess the problem was with me. I'm the one who fucked up paradise. You see Bert and I were happy like I said. But I was the one who spent all of her time dreaming while Bert spent all of his time working. I didn't quite live in the real world. I existed in a fantasy life of Audrey Hepburn movies and dime store romance novels. My name is Tina Johnson. I'm moderately pretty I guess. I'm kind of a corn fed farm girl type. That means I've got a big ass and sturdy legs. Almost everyone around her is built like that though. My best friend Miranda on the other hand, is different. Miranda is really pretty and she's thin, like Audrey Hepburn. When we were growing up she was too thin. None of the boys liked her. Miranda went away to college and came back a career woman. She works in a store about 40 miles away and drives there every day in her car. She dated a lot of the guys in town and never seemed to stay with any of them. Over the years she became like a member of our family she was here so much. She's the Godmother of both of my kids. She took care of me when I was sick and Bert had to run the farm. She was the shoulder I had to cry on when things weren't going well with Bert, and the one who defended me when he was sure that I was wrong about things. She was also the one who tried to pump some common sense into me before I went and fucked up my life. She really tried but I was so far from reality that maybe I just couldn't hear her. I wanted my life to be a romantic fairy tale like "Breakfast at Tiffany's," or "You were never Lovelier." Any of those 40's musicals would do. I wanted to be wined and dined and travel to wonderful places. But my life was not only not like that, my life was in a rut. I felt like I was on a treadmill. I kept doing the same things over and over and over again. Bert had to do them over and over too, but I never saw that. The life that I had started to seem like a prison to me. I couldn't see any of the good in my life, I saw only boredom. So last year, after my daughter Kathy, the youngest of our children moved to Chicago, I started telling Bert that I wanted us to sell the farm and move to the city, and travel. I wanted to go to Paris, and walk down the Champs Elysees, and drink cold Champagne on top of the Eiffel Tower. I wanted to go to Italy, and Spain and cruise the Mediterranean. Bert just got a cold towel and placed it on my forehead. He kissed me and wrapped his arms around me, and told me someday we'd do those things. But this wasn't someday, and he had crops to get in, but he promised me we would. I guess that wasn't enough for me because I just saw myself chained to a schedule where everyone except me got to do what they wanted to do and I had to sit around bored. Everything we did was on a schedule. We even had sex on a schedule. I'm not saying that sex wasn't good, it was great. Bert got me off every time, but sometimes it seemed like even sex was on a schedule. Bert would come in, eat me for exactly the same amount of time, in the same way, then roll me over and fuck me and be asleep by 9 so he could be awake by 5 a.m. to start his chores. Miranda was constantly telling me how great Bert was and how mush he loved me and how fucking lucky I was. I didn't feel lucky though, I just felt trapped. Then one day when I was in town shopping, I saw it. In the ladies dress shop in town, they had a new display. But it wasn't the beautiful spring dresses that grabbed me, it was one small item. A hat, but what a hat it was. It was almost exactly like the hat that Audrey Hepburn wore in Breakfast at Tiffany's. I went into the store and bought it immediately. I didn't even try it on I just got out my credit card and bought it. I got home and tried it on. I wasn't even thinking about what Bert would say when he found out that I'd spent 85 dollars on a hat that didn't quite fit me. It was at least 2 sizes too small for my big head. I was sure that I looked like Audrey Hepburn. Well, except for the fact that she was tall and thin, and I'm 5'3" and weigh 185. And of course we have different hair color, different eye color and different facial features, we could be twins. As I sat there in the mirror I was sure that I looked exactly like her. Miranda came over later on that day, and when I showed her my hat, she wrinkled up her nose a bit but didn't say anything. I know now that she didn't because she was my friend, and didn't want to hurt my feelings. But as they say, kindness can sometimes be the unkindest blow of all. I told her that I wanted to go to Paris, and I was going whether Bert wanted to or not. If he didn't go to Paris with me I would simply divorce him and find someone who would. I was too special to waste in this one horse town. Even our kids had moved away. Miranda tried telling me that good men were hard to find, and especially in our town, men like Bert were not easy to replace. But I didn't want to hear it. I think she sensed somehow that I needed this. I think that we all, just every once in a while need to do something crazy, just for ourselves. Bert had done his crazy thing a couple of years back. In a rural farming community where everyone drives pickup trucks and tractors, Bert had gone out and bought himself a Mustang GT. He loved that car like it was another one of our kids, and even built a garage right next to the barn just to house that car in. Miranda herself had done her crazy thing, and made herself the talk of the God Damned town about 8 months ago. She'd always been thin and petite so she raised a lot of eyeballs around town when she went to Chicago for a "Vacation" and came back with much bigger titties. I'm talking about every man in town is staring at you titties. So maybe that was why she understood why I needed to go to Paris. Bert of course said "No." So we began arguing about it. After weeks of arguing, I finally told him that I wanted a divorce. There was no way that I could stay with a man who prevented me from living my dreams. Bert moved into the guest room, and stopped speaking to me at all. Miranda called me a fucking idiot and tried to talk me down off the ledge, but I couldn't hear her. She was also talking to Bert to try and get him to see what this meant to me. Finally Bert gave in and though he couldn't leave the farm in the spring, he paid for my entire trip and Miranda's. He couldn't go with me but he loved me enough to let me go. I could tell that he didn't want me to go, but he tried not to show it. I could tell that the thought of me being away from him for 3 weeks was breaking his heart. Miranda also couldn't go, she couldn't leave her job for three weeks without giving them sufficient notice. Kathy came to my rescue. My daughter and I would go to Paris together. When the day came for us to leave, Bert drove me to the airport where I'd fly to Chicago, Kathy and I would travel together from there. Bert hugged me like I was dying, and just didn't want to let go of me. If I knew then what I know now, I'd never have gotten on that fucking plane. After a few small problems at the airport in Paris, we got settled in our hotel room. Kathy wanted to relax and get over the time difference and jet lag, but I was desperate to see the city. So I left her in the room and went down to the hotel lobby where I found a tour group that was just about to leave. I spent the early evening on a cramped bus with a group of tourists from all over the world. There were Asians, Africans, Indians and people from other European countries, all linked by our mutual thrill at being in Paris. We saw many of the famous sites including the Louvre, and the Eiffel tower. The problem is that all we did was to see them on this tour. We drove by each one, paused for a few moments to take photographs and sped off to our next location. I guess I was a bit disappointed in the tour because it wasn't what I expected. I could have probably seen more, and been more in depth if I had watched it on television. The next day I scheduled several tours, that did go inside some of the more famous places, including a two hour guided tour of the Louvre, that included a guide who talked about all of the most famous pieces of art. Kathy loved it and wanted to do it again, but I was still disappointed. All f the things that we were doing were just too touristy if that's even a word. I wanted to immerse myself in the true spirit of Parisian culture. This wasn't what I'd come here for. Of course Kathy didn't understand it. My daughter looked at me as if I was crazy, when I tried to explain it to her. "Mom," she said. "I think you've spent too much time watching those old movies. Paris is just a place, like any other. Your experience here is largely made up of what you want it to be. Some of the things that you're hoping for just don't exist. You're missing out on the experience you've always dreamed about, because it isn't like some fantasy you had that based on movies from 60 or 70 Years ago." By the 2nd week Kathy and I often travelled alone. She spent her days going on boring tours and taking pictures and sending home post cards to family and friends. I of course did none of those things. I took to wandering the streets in my Audrey Hepburn hat searching in vain for the true Paris. Then one day unfortunately only 3 days before we were supposed to come home I was wandering down one of those famous avenues, I was actually a little lost, when I saw him. An artist sitting right out on the avenue sketching the avenue itself and some of the people passing by. He had dark hair, and a scruffy unkempt beard. But he had the most piercing blue eyes I'd ever seen. I stopped to watch him sketch, and after a while he turned to me. As I watched amazed, he began to draw me. He even drew my wonderful Audrey Hepburn hat. "Beautiful Lady," he said in heavily accented English. "I would like to finish the drawing of you but I must rest for a few moments and get something to eat. will you remain here for a while?" He looked at me hungrily. No one had looked at me like that since, well no one had ever looked at me like that. "Yes," I told him. "Oui," I said using the only French word I knew. "American," he said. "But you speak French like a native." He smiled at me and gathered his pencils and supplies. "Perhaps you would join me for a bite?" I nodded my head so vigorously that it could have come off of my neck. He held out his hand, just like Gregory Peck had done in... All of a sudden, I decided to take my daughter's advice and concentrate on what was real. Instead of living in my fantasies from movies of long ago, I decided to concentrate on what was going on now. "My name is Pierre," he said in that deep voice and that accent. "Pierre Le Pew, but all of my friends call me Pepe." He led me to a small sidewalk cafe on the next corner. I looked around and we were off the main streets. there were no tourists to be seen and I was happy. I was seeing the real Paris at last. We spent the entire afternoon drinking rich black coffee and talking and laughing. Finally when it was time for the bill Pierre paid it. I offered to but he wouldn't hear of it. "Oh my," he said sadly. "We have lost the light, I will not be able to finish the drawing of my new American friend." He seemed so sad about it that my heart broke. But then he had an idea. I could accompany him to his flat, the light there would allow him to finish the drawing, and then he'd see me back to my hotel. It was beginning to get dark and I was supposed to meet Kathy, but I decided to go for it. After all I was leaving in only two days and he was the only Parisian I'd met while I was here. Something in the back of my mind told me not to go, but I just didn't listen to that voice. I wish that I had. We walked through the darkening streets with Pierre taking my hand and waving to all of the people we met. I felt like one of those women from my movies. They all seemed to smile at me as we passed. Now as I look back on it, I realize of course that they weren't smiling at me, they were laughing at me. It's almost like I was one of those guys who wants to be a Samurai so badly that he gets a sword and goes to Japan. Or all of those guys who walk around in Star Trek uniforms speaking Klingon. I was that far out of touch with reality. The difference is of course that the guy in Japan knows there are no more Samurai, and the Trekkie knows that he's never going to really be Captain Kirk. I really believed I was Audrey Hepburn. Finally we got to a small decrepit hotel. Back home I'd never have stepped into a place like this. It looked and smelled awful, kind of like a fleabag motel that hookers would hang out in. Again the voice in my head said you shouldn't be here, and again I turned it off. Once inside Pepe's flat he began to sketch in earnest. He posed me the way he wanted. Often he would stand up and move me into a certain position. Several times when he did this he accidentally brushed my breasts, which caused me to feel a little bit wary, but I brushed the feeling aside, this was Paris after all and he was an artist. He just wanted to get the picture right. Maybe when he was done with it, I could buy it from him and take it home and show all of those hicks my portrait drawn by a modern day French Artist. You'll Always Have Paris After about an hour, we took a break. He gave me a glass of very strong wine and after drinking it I had a slight buzz. I wasn't drunk and I was still very much in control, it just lowered my inhibitions. There was music playing down in the streets and he stood me up and we danced slowly to the music we heard through the window. Now this was the Paris I'd come to experience. His hand on my waist dropped lower and lower until it was resting on my ass. I knew then that I should have said something but I didn't want the dream to end. With no negative reactions, I felt the hand joined by his other. Now he was moving me around the floor by holding onto my ass with both hands. And I should have said or done something then but I thought, that it was only a tiny bit wrong. Besides it would give me a dirty little memory all my own to take into my old age. Then the hands began to squeeze and fondle my ass and pull me into him. With no words of protest he grew even bolder and pulled me into him for a kiss. When I felt his lips separate and his tongue try to enter my mouth I pulled away. "Pepe, I'm a married woman," I said sternly. "Forgive me, I was just overwhelmed by the moment," he said. "Come, I will take you back to your hotel." "But you haven't finished the picture," I said. "Perhaps you could come back tomorrow," he said. "I would like very much to introduce you to some of my friends." So I forgot about the incident with the kiss and he took me back to my hotel. Kathy of course was very worried that I'd missed our meal together, and very relieved when I came in. She spent nearly an hour telling me about some silly tourist thing she'd done today and what she wanted to do for our remaining 3 days here. The next day I woke at about noon and went to meet Pepe. He was very sad and apologetic about last night. He laid out his supplies and began to draw but I could see he was having difficulty. "What's wrong?" I asked. "I cannot see the framing of the doorway I began to draw you in last night," he said. "And the light here is too bright, it does not enhance your beauty. It is like the glare in a photograph, but I will do my best." "Would you like to go back to your place then?" I asked. He nodded his head like a schoolboy who has been caught in the cookie jar. "Okay, but no funny business." When we got to his place, he arranged me as he had last night. He gave me another glass of the wine from before and after sipping it as he sketched I was soon feeling no pain. He again got up several times to position me, and like before he brushed my naughty areas a few times accidentally. I was used to it by now so I didn't even mention it. When we took a break he massaged my shoulders and it really felt good. I felt a little warm so I unbuttoned another button on my blouse. His wonderful massaging hands wandered down my arms continuing to massage. I felt great, until I noticed that he was no longer massaging my arms he was cupping and massaging my breasts. "Pepe," I said sharply. "It is only massage, no funny business. And I could not resist they are like the mountains of Venus, so full, yet so soft." he said. I was overwhelmed by the compliment so I said nothing more and he continued to play with my breasts. My nipples became aroused and my panties got a little moist, but my guilt stopped me from truly relaxing. "Paris is the city of light, but also the city of love," he began. "But we are a city of secrets as well. What we do here does not leave the room." He began to unbutton my blouse further and I don't know why I didn't stop him but I didn't. He lifted my breasts out of the cups of my bra as if they were the most precious things in the world. He licked them and sucked them and played with my nipples very gently, the way Bert used to before we were married. Then he pulled my skirt down and began to rub my vagina through my granny panties. I was beginning to swoon. I wondered how far he's actually go. I really intended to make him stop at any moment but each new sensation was a miracle in itself. When I think back on it, it wasn't any better than what Bert used to do to me before we got bored, and maybe in retrospect it wasn't as good, there was something missing, but at that moment my head was spinning and it wasn't the wine. The next thing I knew I was on my back. Somehow he'd gotten my panties all the way off. That was the end. I had to put a stop to this. As if he sensed what I was about to say, he started kissing me again and his mouth on mine wouldn't let me say anything. Then it was too late, he pushed his penis inside me hard and fast, and just started fucking me. Started out romantic and fuzzy, quickly became animalistic and ugly. He just slammed himself into me with no regard for how I felt. I looked at his face and saw his smile. "Pepe stop," I said. "I don't want to do this." "Oh beautiful lady," he smirked. "It would be very rude to stop now, we have already gone this far. No one will ever know. It will be our secret." By the time I realized how stupid that sounded he was cumming in big spurts all over my stomach and breasts. "I'm so sorry," he said. "I couldn't resist. I don't know what came over me. At first I was just trying to massage, to remove your tension. then when I felt your magnificent breasts I just lost control." "You think my breasts are magnificent?" I asked. "Yes," he replied seriously. He swore to me that none of it had been my fault, it was his spurred on by my beauty he had lost control. He looked so sad, that again I believed him. By the end of the afternoon he had lost control twice more. The only time I stopped him was when he tried to fuck my ass. He assured me that no one would ever know and that tomorrow we would finish the drawing and he wouldn't lay a finger on me. In fact we would go out to get something to eat and come back and finish it today and he would give it to me as a present for my husband. We went to a small cafe, another one that he knew about. I excused myself to go to the ladies room while we waited for our food to come back. As I returned from the ladies room I heard two men talking. "Isn't she a little big for your tastes," asked the first voice. Then I heard Pepe, answer n perfectly unaccented English, "Yeah she's a fucking cow but she's got a big jiggly ass, and big old sagging titties. Some guys like that, but I won't know whether we'll get any money out of this until it's edited. "But she looks so God damned goofy, and what's with that fucking hat. It's got to be at least two sizes too small for her big head, and it just looks silly." "I know," answered Pepe."She thinks she's one of those movies stars from the forties. Audrey Hepburn. I guess no one told her how ridiculous she looks. But she's going to get her wish, she's gonna be a movie star alright." "Why the fuck does she call you Pepe?" asked the first voice. "Shit I couldn't tell her my real name, so I just made up the first French sounding name I could think of," said Pepe. "I told her my name was Pepe le Pew," he laughed. "Isn't that the Skunk from the Looney tunes cartoons?" asked his friend. I snuck out of the cafe and caught a taxi back to my hotel. I went into my room and took off all of my clothes, got into the shower and just let the water run down on me. I soaped myself off, but I somehow just couldn't get clean enough. I must have stayed in the shower for over an hour. When Kathy came in I was still there. My skin was wrinkled and I had huge bags under my eyes from crying, but I didn't tell her what was wrong. I couldn't. No one could ever know how stupid I'd been. I suddenly realized that the two people, who'd almost understood me had both been right. Miranda had tried to tell me that the grass wasn't any greener on the other side of the world, but I hadn't listened. And Kathy had told me that people and places, were only people and places. I went to dinner with my daughter, and called my husband for the first time since I'd left. I had avoided talking to Bert because I didn't want his negativity to ruin my trip. I'd wanted romance, and the fantasy, I figured out too late that I already had it. I had a man who loved me so much that he paid for me to come on a trip, that he didn't want me to go on. Bert didn't try to prevent me from living my dream, he just loved me so much that he didn't want me to leave him, and he had responsibilities. That was another thing, for all of our lives I had never helped him make our living. While he went out in the fields and worked his ass off, I sat in the house and watched those fucking movies. How had he put up with me? I told Bert that I missed him and I loved him and I couldn't wait to get home to him. I also figured out that if I wanted our sex life to be better, it needed to start with me. I needed to do something to make it better, starting with telling Bert what I wanted. Kathy talked all through dinner about the things she'd seen and the tours she'd been on. She knew more about the history of Paris and art than most of the people I'd listened to on TV. She'd obviously enjoyed her trip here far more than I had. I'd been so busy trying to find the true Paris that I'd missed it. I felt kind of like those people who want to see the forest but the trees keep getting in their way. I decided to spend the last day we had enjoying the city with my daughter. Maybe I could even buy some tacky souvenirs to take home. I woke up that next morning and heard the phone in the room ringing. I put it to my ear, and felt my blood go cold. "Beautiful Lady, I am waiting for you downstairs," he said. "Go away Pepe, or whatever your name is," I snapped into the phone keeping my voice low so Kathy wouldn't hear me. "I think you need to get your fat country ass down here, or you won't like what happens next," he said without a trace of an accent. "And don't forget to wear your little circus hat." I wondered what he meant by that, so I asked him. "What do you mean I won't like it?" "How would you like it if your daughter found out what you've been doing. Or I'm sure I can find an American reporter who might be interested in a story about married American tourists spending time with French artists." "You have no proof," I snapped. "Well I think that you should come down here and look at what I do have," he said. "I'm in the lobby of your building you'll be perfectly safe. In 10 minutes I'm gone." I dressed quickly and made it to the lobby with time to spare. I saw him sitting at a reading table with a file folder in front of him on the table and a box. I walked over to his table and sat down. I slammed my hat down on the table in front of him. "Good Morning beautiful lady," he began. "Save it Frog," I snapped. "Let's get to it." "You were supposed to return to my flat with me today, so I could complete the drawing and introduce you to my friends," he said politely. "I don't want the fucking picture anymore," I snapped. "Speaking of fucking pictures, or is it pictures of fucking?" he said. "My English isn't that good," he pulled several pictures out of the folder. Each clearly showed himself involved in sexual acts with me. I cringed when I looked at a picture of myself sucking his dick. "Okay," I snapped how much do you want for the folder?" I asked. "As I said, I only want you to come back to my flat and meet my friends, and this can all go away," he smiled. "Besides, I stole all of your money yesterday. You have nothing left to pay for anything with." I went back upstairs to my room and told Kathy that I wouldn't be going on that last tour with her after all but I'd be waiting for her when she got back like yesterday, and we'd have our last dinner in Paris together and maybe go for a nice walk. When we got to Pepe's flat, things were a little bit different. There were lights and several cameras set up around the bed we'd used yesterday. "What are all of the cameras for?" I asked. "There's no way I'm going to do anything with you on camera." "First," he said menacingly. "You already did. I have plenty of video of your performances yesterday. Second, who said that you had any choice?" He sat down at the table and motioned for me to join him. At that point I didn't trust him or anyone else, so I sat down warily. "These are the facts," he told me. "I am a business man plain and simple. My only goal here is to make money. And I will make money either way. So let's look at your options. Number one you can walk out that door right now or you can stay here for a few hours and never see or hear from me again. If you walk out the door, I simply do what I'm going to do anyway. I release your video and photos from yesterday, and I make money from the sale of the videos. I'm going to either way. Here's where you have a choice. If you cooperate, then I shoot a few hours more of footage, which gives me more video, so I can release more videos, but to a smaller market, which is good for you." "What difference does it make to me?" I asked. "If I release in the smaller market, the videos will probably only circulate through this part of France, maybe if you're extremely popular which I doubt, they may be seen in a larger part of France, but that's as far as they go. On the other hand with less footage, I'd have to go to a larger market to make the same amount of money, so your video would probably go throughout Europe which would be bad for you, because some areas of the continent have distribution deals with Asia and America, so you might end up being seen at home. Aren't you uhm, married by the way? We wouldn't really want the people in Bug Tussle or wherever you're from to see this now would we?" he asked with a sarcastic sneer on his face. At that moment I really wanted to wipe that grin off his lips with my fist. "You probably wouldn't be a happy little wife for too much longer after that video got out. On the other hand, I really don't need you to agree to anything. Rape videos are really big in some parts of the world so all of your screaming and kicking would actually add to the thrill for some of our clientele. Your best bet is to take your clothes off, lay down on that bed spread your big fat legs and enjoy another afternoon of sex, and then go home and forget any of this ever happened. In a few weeks all of the perverts around here will be tired of seeing you and I'll have some other stupid fat woman from Iowa, or Idaho making the next movie. As a word of caution though, you really should try living in the real world and stop being so fucking gullible. News flash! Audrey Hepburn died in 1993 and you ain't her. So what's it going to be? Are we filming a few hours of wild enjoyable sex, or am I editing what I've already got to get it ready for wide world distribution? It really makes no difference to me," he said.He crossed the room and opened the door so I could leave if I chose to. I lay down on the bed and began to take off my clothes. Pepe got behind the camera and started filming as a big swarthy guy entered the room already naked. He helped me finish getting undressed and started groping me. Then he rolled me over and entered my vagina doggy style. Pepe was shouting instructions. The big guy pulled out of me and came around to the side of the bed. I was instructed off camera to give him a blowjob. As soon as I got his still slimy dick in my mouth, someone else entered my vagina I couldn't even see who it was. I had to admit though that it was exciting at first. My body started to react against both my will and my better judgment. I couldn't help it, I started to push back against the guy in the back. When I realized what I was doing I abruptly stopped. The big guy in front of me pulled out of my mouth and sprayed his foul smelling semen all over my face. More and more men kept coming into the room. At one point, I was lying on top of one guy face up with my neck arched backwards painfully. The guy under me was fucking my ass, while a guy on top of me stuck his dick in my pussy. I was sucking one guy off and giving a hand job to yet another. It was nowhere near romantic and I was in a lot of pain. Tears were streaming from my eyes but no one cared. Pepe kept running out of disk space on his camera so he kept leaving the room to get more memory cards. I guess shooting in HD ate up memory a lot faster. "Okay baby, just one more shot and you can go home and forget about all of this," he said to me almost gently. I just need you to get back in position, let them all pull out of you. Then I want you to get down on your knees and open your mouth wide. Don't swallow until I tell you to. The part about going home re-energized me. I got back on top of the first guy and got into position. After a couple of strokes in my vagina and ass they pulled out. I quickly got on my knees. There must have been at least 6 or 7 naked men and they all tried to shoot off into my mouth. Some of them made it while others just sprayed my face and chest with their semen. I had my head tilted back and my mouth full of a mixture of semen from several different men. I was waiting for Pepe to tell me to swallow. Pepe got a funny look on his face and said, "Just hold it." He ran out of the room. I knew if I swallowed I'd have to do it all over again and I wanted this to be over. I guess I thought that he was going to switch memory cards again, because he ran out of the room carrying the camera. I waited for a few seconds which became about a minute no longer and suddenly there was an ear splitting sound as the front door was caved in and the room filled with Gendarmes who arrested everyone. When I got down to the station, I thought it was the worst moment of my life when, still dripping with cum, I had to try and explain to the officers that I wasn't a prostitute. I told them who I was and how I had been forced into it. When they asked me who had forced me, the only name I could give them was Pepe le Pew. They took my passport and my driver's license. They even went to my hotel and spoke to the people there. An even worse moment was when my daughter was brought down to the station. I was allowed to wipe my face off and put on some of my clothes, but Kathy refused to speak to me or even to look at me. Another Detective they brought in, had actually heard stories similar to mine, and when I described Pepe to him, him nodded his head and actually looked as if he wanted to laugh at me. We were then stuffed into a car and driven to the airport. I was being deported. Kathy was allowed to go back to the hotel pack her belongings and mine if she chose and fly out tomorrow on our schedule first class flight. I on the other hand had to leave immediately. I was stuck on a small plane and flown to England and from there to New York with only the clothes on my back and my returned I.D. Once in the United States it would be up to me to arrange transport home. I would also never be allowed on French soil again. Strangely enough, I didn't care if I ever saw Paris again. The way I felt then I don't think I'd ever eat Fries, or a Croissant for the rest of my life. I had a few dollars left in my purse that Kathy had given me while we were in the car. My money and my cell phone had been stolen from me before the Gendarmes arrested me. But I could still call Kathy and try to get her to help me cover this up. I wasn't arrested for making the video. The Gendarmes weren't interested in the video at all. Pepe had printed up flyers and was charging the men 50 Euros to fuck me anyway they wanted, while he filmed it. Finding one of the brochures was what got the Gendarmes attention. Pepe had looked outside the window while he was filming and saw them arrive. He'd simply told me to wait, and he made his escape taking his camera with him. I got to England and called Kathy, I didn't know what I was going to say to her, but it didn't matter because she never picked up the phone. She also didn't answer her cell phone. I spent the next few hours in terror that my daughter would call my husband and tell him all about it. My terror was wasted though because Kathy didn't get back to the US until a full day after I did. You'll Always Have Paris They say that bad news travels fast. That's actually an understatement. When I got to New York, I called Bert's phone and it kept going to voicemail. Bert always had his phone on. That was the way we communicated. If I was in the house and he was in the fields I simply picked up the phone. In desperation I called Miranda, the call did not go the way I was expecting. Before I could even say hello Miranda interrupted me. "What the hell where you thinking?" she asked. "I just don't understand why. You've never seemed to be anything like that. Just how did you go from the nice, quiet, kind Tina Ramsey Johnson I grew up with, my best friend I might add, to this?" "Miranda what are you talking about?" I asked. "Tina your picture was on the news. You got arrested for being a prostitute in Paris. They sent you home. Then it came out that you actually weren't a prostitute you were making a porno film. The news showed your picture and within hours you were all over the internet. There must be 6 or 7 different movies with lots of different guys. there's even one of you in a gang bang with I don't know how many men shooting their goo all over you. Bert is devastated, there were reporters all over the farm looking for interviews with the husband of the French whore. A couple of people even wanted to interview me since I'm your friend." "Miranda, I'm stuck in New York right now, I need you to get Bert to wire me some money to fly home." I told her. "Tina why did you do this? Why do it to Bert? You should have divorced him if you wanted to change your life. Why make him suffer for something you wanted to do? That man loved you like you were the most special thing in the world. He even gave you the money to go to Paris, and look how you repaid him. You made him the laughing stock of the whole county. He was in town buying fertilizer when the news came on and there were lots of guys running up to him, and asking him all sorts of silly questions, like if you made him pay to fuck you, or if you made him wait in line. He got into several fights and the Sheriff even suggested that he should probably stay out of town until this blows over. I don't think he wants to see you or talk to you, let alone send you any money, but I'll ask him. Are you calling from a pay phone?" I gave her the number at the payphone, and hung up and waited. It seemed like I was waiting for hours until she called me back. She was sounding really sad as she said, "Tina I spoke to Bert, he doesn't want to have anything to do with you. He's driving up to the state capital to see a lawyer about divorcing you first thing tomorrow morning. He won't send you any money, and he says you don't have a home to come back to. I tried to tell him that there has to be more to this than what we know so far. Isn't there?" "Miranda, could you loan me the money for a plane ticket, and let me stay with you for a few days?" Miranda proved to be a great friend, she sent me a ticket and even met me at the airport. She snuck me into her small house in town. I took a shower and was surprised to find that Miranda had a lot of my clothes. "I went over to talk to Bert and he was packing up all of your things to set them out by the road so I loaded up everything I could," she said. "Thanks Miranda," I said gratefully. "What's our next move?" "What do you mean," she asked. "Well, I need to find a way to explain all of this to Bert," I said. "The only thing that matters to me is that he knows that it isn't true." "I'm not sure if that's a good idea Tina," she said. "Bert is hurt and angry, and feeling betrayed right now. He loves you a lot, and this just tore his heart out. Men have a lot of pride and you pretty much turned him from respected Farmer into the town joke. He called over there and spoke to the French Police and even spoke to Kathy before she flew home, to make sure there was no mistake." "When I went over to your house yesterday, I caught him crying over you. I think you're going to have to give him some time and let this die down." "But Miranda, he's my husband, he has to listen to me. He's all I've got, and all I want. I love him," I said. "Really Tina?" she asked me. I noticed that she was looking at me in a funny way. "Tina, were you drugged? Did they have a gun on you?" "Well, no," I said quietly. "But they tricked me, and then they..." "They tricked you into fucking a room full of strange men?" she asked. "Well Pepe, tricked me, he seduced me because he was so romantic and charming, and he started out just doing little things that weren't really that bad. And I let him because it was Paris and he was French. And then the next thing I knew he was fucking me, and I knew I should say no but he told me that Paris was a secret city so no one would know." Before I could finish Miranda stopped me. "So you, a married woman just let some French guy charm her out of her panties?" she asked. I nodded my head and then said, "Then the next day he showed me pictures of us fucking and told me if I didn't do the film that he'd release the video worldwide, so I had to do it." "Tina, Bert loves you. I think he might've believed that one slick guy tricked you or even drugged you, but you did 6 or 7 guys at once and let them shoot all over you. I've never met a man that would forgive that. You should have come clean after the first guy and came home. Better still a married woman shouldn't have been hanging out with some slick French guy in the first place. But the problem is that you've lived most of your life in the clouds. Do you even realize how lucky you are, or were? Do you know how many single women there are in this town who would kill to have what you have with Bert? When this blows over, if you don't get him back there'll be a line stretching from the farm to town full of women trying to replace you Tina. You said he was all you've got. I'm not sure you have him anymore. You said he was all you want. If that's true you have a funny way of showing it. And if you love him, letting a whole bunch of other guys fuck you is not a good way to make him love you back. You've always thought that you were a little bit too special for the room Tina and I hope it works out for you, but I think it's caught up to you. As your friend I'll try to help you as much as I can, you can stay here for as long as you need, but I'm thinking maybe you should move somewhere else." Over the next few weeks I tried everything I could. I showed up at the house. Bert wouldn't open the door for me. He didn't even have to change the locks since I had lost my keys. I showed up in the fields. He didn't even stop his tractor. I called him every day just begging for him to talk to me. Then finally I got a break. His lawyer called me to have a meeting to discuss the terms of the divorce. Bert was offering to make the divorce painless for both of us irreconcilable differences and a 50/50 split of all of the cash we had in the bank. Bert got to keep the farm since it had been in his family before we ever met. The thing that got me was the chance to speak to him face to face. So I went. His lawyer went over the papers with me, I agreed to everything and signed them. Then the lawyer left. Bert came in and sat down across from me. I jumped up as soon as I saw him but he held up a hand stopping me before I got anywhere near him. "Say what you have to say Tina," he said. I heard his voice crack as I said it. "I love you Bert, I've never loved anyone but you, I'd do anything I could to make this all go away and have us back the way we were before this happened." I told him everything that had happened and how it occurred. I told him about how empty I'd been feeling and how I had just gone to Paris looking for something exciting and fulfilling in my life. I sought romance and old world culture. I told him how I missed our life together and especially how I missed him. I poured my soul out to him and told him that he was all I wanted and all I needed. And how I wanted him to forgive me and take me back, so I could make this all up to him. I'd spend the rest of my life making him the happiest man on earth and without him I was nothing and I had nothing. "Tina, you were always searching for something more than I could give you. I'm just a run of the mill farmer. I'm just as common as grass. I loved you with all of my heart and soul and I worked my ass off to make a life for us, but I guess it just wasn't the fantasy you need. I listened to all of the things you said, and I guess I can understand it from your point of view. It's like that old saying "how are you going to keep them down on the farm once they've seen Paris," So maybe you went looking for your dream and found a nightmare instead. That doesn't mean that you should give up on that dream. I think maybe you should go back to France, and just be a little bit more careful," he said. And I started to believe that he understood a little bit of what I was feeling. "You should still go after your dream Tina, if you try hard enough you can be Audrey Hepburn, but I don't fit into your dream, so I have to go after my own." he said. "But Bert you are my dream I just didn't realize it. You're the only thing I want. If you go through with this divorce, those bastards in France will have taken everything I have away from me, and everything that I need, because all of that is you." I cried. Bert stood up and turned to me. "Maybe they did take a little bit from you," he said."Sometimes that's the price of going after your dream. But they didn't take everything Tina. There's one thing that you wanted that will always be there and no one can take from you." "Bert are you talking about your love for me?" I asked. "Hell no, Tina," he replied coldly. "That was the first thing you lost, but you'll always have Paris." Miranda was eerily true in her prediction. Within weeks of the divorce everyone in town had heard about him divorcing me and refusing to have anything to do with me. I couldn't believe that as much as he loved me that he'd just dump me without a second thought. I still loved him so much it hurt me to think about it. The women in town started making fools about themselves, all chasing after my man whom I was determined to win back at any cost. At first Miranda was very supportive keeping me informed of who was making a play for him or showing up at the farm. Then I began to notice that Miranda simply stopped giving me information and wouldn't mention what was going on with Bert. I soon found out the reason. I thought that maybe she knew that chasing Bert was pointless and didn't want me to get my hopes up, but I was wrong. Miranda started staying out all night, and coming home the next morning extremely fucking happy. Whenever I asked her about Bert, she was evasive and told me she'd go by and check on him in the next few days. After a while I just came right out and told her, "Miranda, I need you to go and check on my husband for me. If you're my friend you'll do this for me." "Tina, you need to move on with your life. I know you loved the man, but you messed up. Better luck next time. I've been trying to avoid telling you this, but Bert has moved on. It's been six months since your divorce was final, and a year since you went to Paris. At first there were a lot of women chasing Bert. Then there were only a few. But I think he's finally found someone that he wants to be with." "What!" I screamed. "Tina why didn't you tell me." "Because I didn't want to see you hurt," she said. "I have to get ready for work, we'll talk about it some more tomorrow." I sat down at the kitchen table and just cried my eyes out. I knew things with us were not good, but I still thought I was just giving Bert time to get over what happened in Paris. I still went out and watched him work in the fields sometimes. And I did see women go over from time to time to drop off a cake or a pie. And I had noticed that lately there were very few of them dropping by. I had hoped that Bert was ready to forgive me or maybe even to just talk. Miranda had to be mistaken. I got dressed and went over to the farm. I sat in my car and watched from the road as Bert drove the tractor all over checking all sorts of things that I suddenly realized I knew nothing about. I had lived on that farm with the man for over half of my life and I didn't know a thing about it. Suddenly, I had an idea. I'd go to Miranda's job and see if she'd take one of my pies over to Bert for me tomorrow. If she agreed, I'd dash home and bake it so it would be fresh in the morning. The store that Miranda worked at was already closed, but her car was still in the parking lot. Miranda came out of the store and got into her car. I wondered where she was going. Miranda never talked about men or getting married. I knew that a lot of it stemmed from when she was in college. Most of the men she ran into only wanted to fuck her and duck her. Of course that was before she got those big store-bought titties. She kept saying that she just hadn't met the right man. Miranda turned down a familiar road and I thought that maybe she was just heading home, but then she turned. Miranda was heading home alright, but she was going to my home. I watched as she drove right up to my house. She didn't bother knocking on the door, the bitch had a key. I sat in the car fuming. A few minutes later. Bert drove the tractor into the barn and headed for the house. Miranda came out of the house in a short yellow dress that was cut so low in the front that I could see her fake breasts from the road. She was holding a plate of food. Bert stepped up to her and put the plate down on the banister around the porch. Then he kissed Miranda and wrapped his arms around her. They settled down into the porch swing and kept kissing each other. Then Miranda reached out and got the plate of food. She fed my husband whatever that shit was that she had cooked, and he ate it all. In between bites she'd kiss him. It was like a scene from one of those fucking movies I had wasted my life watching. Then as it started to get dark, they went into the house and closed the door. I drove back to Miranda's house and cried my eyes out again. I couldn't believe Miranda would do that to me. I sat up all night thinking about it. For most of my life I had dreamed of a fantasy from a bunch of 50 year old movies, when a far better one was right in front of me, but I'd been too stupid to see it. The man of my dreams had always been right beside me in bed. I just hadn't done my part to make the fantasy real. Then I had another truly evil thought. Miranda with her tall thin body and dark hair, the bitch looked like Audrey Hepburn, except for those big fake tits. Suddenly I hated Miranda and Audrey Hepburn. Then I heard the door open and Miranda stepped in smiling and positively glowing. I threw the coffee cup I was drinking from at her with all of my might. Luckily I missed but the cup shattered against the wall and threw coffee and shards all over the kitchen. Miranda took one look at my face and she knew that I knew. "Tina I've been trying to find a way to tell you," she said sadly. "But in a way it's good that you found out, because there are going to be some changes around here anyway." "So now that you've got my husband, you're kicking me out of your house, huh, bitch?" I screamed at her. "Tina, calm down so we can talk about this," she said. "I know that this is a really messed up situation, but you're my best friend and we've known each other all of our lives. We need to talk about this so we can get past it." We both sat down at the table across from each other. "Can you at least wipe that fucking grin off your face, you home wrecking bitch." I snapped at her. "How did this happen anyway? When did you steal my husband from me?" "Tina, I've always, always told you how lucky you were to have Bert. He's kind and generous and caring. I used to tell you that every day. But you were always living in your God damned movies dreaming about Cary Grant and trying to be some over-weight version of Audrey Hepburn. At least you should have tried for Marilyn Monroe. Anyway you went to Paris and did what you did, and you broke Bert's heart. He was shattered when he found out. After the divorce there were lots of women chasing after him, but the only person he'd even talk to was your daughter. I told her I'd look after him until he got back on his feet. The same thing I told you. I did everything I could to chase those bitches away from him and some of them are far bigger whores than you'd believe. Samantha Henderson for example. I caught that bitch sun bathing naked down by your creek, just waiting for Bert to drive by. The exact place he likes to take his breaks and eat lunch. I had to take a stick to her to get rid of her. It seemed like every unmarried woman in the county except one, was taking a run at Bert. The only one who wasn't, was me. But I was the one visiting him and making sure he ate, and had clean clothes, and I often straightened up the house a bit. When you left the place just went to hell. At first we just became friends, I mean we've known each other since you two got married so, it's been over 20 years. But we started to get closer. And then there were little touches and hugs and the next thing you know we were uhm, consoling each other. In my mind I was helping him to get over you. I was helping to heal his broken heart. And he was helping me come to terms with the fact that I'm a 40 year old never been married spinster. And after a while we weren't consoling any more we were just fucking. I know I should have told you about it but I just didn't want to hurt you. Miranda, he's never going to take you back, so if someone around here is going to have him, it may as well be me," she said. "We hadn't planned on getting married. And what we have isn't like what you and he had. In fact until yesterday he never told me he loved me. We were just fuck buddies. And I guess I thought it would get boring and I'd want someone else like all of the guys I'd meet at the bars. But then I noticed that this was different. I kept doing little things to keep him interested, and I started dressing up differently for him. Some nights he just pounds the shit out of me, and others we make slow and passionate love. You used to talk about how he always did it the same way like it was on a schedule. So I just do everything I can to vary that schedule. But really Miranda that's another place that you were kind of stupid. You know all of those magazines you read where the woman had an affair because her husband wasn't screwing her often enough? Well Did you ever notice how Bert keeps up that schedule that you were complaining about. He fucks me every night and that's the only schedule I care about. Every night, Do you even know how lucky you were?" again I noticed that the bitch was positively glowing. "Miranda, I thought of you like a sister," I said. "I can't believe you're doing this. If you're really my friend you'll break this off with him and help me get him back. This could be my chance. It'll make us even. I got taken advantage of in Paris. He fucked my best friend. Maybe we can talk now and get back together." "Well things are a little too complicated for that," she smiled. "If you think of me as a sister, I'm glad because in that case, you're going to be an aunt." Before the words even sunk in she just kept talking. "I'm quitting my job and moving in with Bert. You can live here for as long as you want or even buy the place from me. I'm going to need a lot of help from you Tina, because I've never been pregnant before. My doctor says because of my age and because I'm so thin I'm going to have to take it really easy." All I could do is listen to my ex best friend talk about how happy she was to be carrying my husband's baby, and how much she loved him even if he didn't feel the same. And how fucking happy they were going to be yada yada yada. You'll Always Have Paris So how did I come to my current situation? Well Miranda needs complete bed rest, so she asked Bert if I could come over and help with the house work and take care of a few things while he works in the field all day. He finally agreed as long as he doesn't have to be around me. Bert does need to fuck a lot and since he couldn't have Miranda he started getting kind of crabby and itchy all the time. One night after dinner I was watching a movie with Miranda, and Bert went out to the Garage to do something to that damned Mustang. As I left the house to drive back to my house I caught a glimpse of him. He was stroking his dick like there was no tomorrow and I just couldn't help it I went into the garage. He noticed that I was there and stopped. He got really defensive and started putting his dick away. "Please don't tell Miranda," he said softly. "I won't tell her a thing," I said. "If..." I pulled up my skirt and pulled my panties down and leaned over the hood of his car. I wiggled my big fat ass and just waited as Bert fought with his conscience. Bert is a really good man, he always tries to do the right thing, but in this situation the right thing lost out to a warm pussy. "Well Miranda and I aren't married yet," he said. "And you and I used to be married," I began. "And the last few days of our marriage, we didn't fuck at all, so I actually owe you some." Bert slammed his dick home. The sex was rough and dirty and nasty, and he left bite marks all over my neck breasts and ass. I had to wear turtle neck sweaters for a week. Everyone knew I was crazy, they remembered my Audrey Hepburn hat so the turtle necks didn't get noticed much. I wanted Bert to come in me so bad I could taste it. I guess I was hoping that he'd get me pregnant too. But he didn't he pulled out and shot it all over the front quarter panel of his car. I watched as his sperm dripped down from the hood to the GT badge then I got down on my knees and licked it up. Bert felt really guilty about it, and couldn't even look at me for a while. Then he mellowed out and we became friends of a sort which makes Miranda happy. But I wait every night hoping that he'll call me for something more. I still crave his touch as I always have. I don't know what I'll do when the baby comes. I guess I'll hope that he knocks her up again. Their baby is going to be a girl and I'm going to be a godmother/aunt. Miranda wanted to name her Tina after me, but Bert had a better idea. He didn't want her to grow up with problems associated to being named after the town whore, so he decided to name her Audrey. Audrey Hepburn Johnson.