French Dom

My husband, James, and I were officially empty nesters. We sort of kicked the second bird out of the nest a little early, but since moving across the country, life was good. We had time for each other and I had time for myself. Actual downtime which I used to explore who I was after the “grown and flown” stage. I worked outside the home while he had a home office. He cooked amazing meals for us while I was on cleanup duty. We were partners in every way. We explored small towns on the weekends. Walking down “Main Street USA” and visiting local bakeries and diners. Our company was always easy. 

Before our big move, I was constantly treading water trying to stay afloat. At work and in life. I lived in a constant state of stress with absolutely no work life balance. Since moving to the northeast, life had slowed considerably. I began to feel awake. Alive. I started to explore my body, my orgasms, my sensuality. James was there to support me in my awakening even though our libidos were not usually in sync. 

He’d suggested I join FetLife after seeing posts by a friend of a friend. I’d read a lot of erotica and knew what turned me on, but I still felt out of my element. Was I kinky? Wasn’t I too old for all of this? What did I really want sexually? James’ nudging opened the door of possibilities. My sensuality began to take shape. I wanted to be touched. To be fucked. To be dominated and to allow the stressors of daily life to fade into the background. 

James and I came to several agreements: He wanted me to have fun, but to be safe. He is also a voyeur and wanted to watch. Any in-person play needed to be with someone who has had recent STI testing and who’d allow him to be present. To take pictures, shoot video, and maybe lay his hands—or other parts—on me (and me only.) 

With these stipulations, I began to chat with new friends, always offering to share conversations with James. Henri’s messages caught my eye. He was intelligent, polite, and had a thick French accent. He was a sapiosexual like me—attracted to intellect. He was new to the area and trying to meet people. His ex-wife, 15 years his elder, remained in France while he and their sons moved to New York. 

She is a good woman but we decided to go a different path which I do respect. He messaged me. You are a pretty person inside & outside. And on top of that you are honest. Plus so many other things but later— I was melting before we arranged to meet.

We’d only chatted online for a couple of days, but a hug seemed appropriate when we met at a bar between our apartment and his house. Henri’s blue eyes were a paradox—icy, yet warm and inviting. He was even cuter than the picture he’d sent. Curls that I could imagine running my fingers through and a beard the length of which would tickle nicely between my thighs. 

But I’m getting ahead of myself—this was simply an introduction—a chance for communication and a test for compatibility and comfort. While he and James discussed history and politics, I had a chance to take in Henri’s Romanesque features and his long, slim fingers. The evening was easy. I occasionally served as a go-between over the just-too-loud music. I repeated Henri’s quiet, yet rapid words (spoken in the most delicious accent) to my James who sometimes had trouble hearing them. We inched closer together as the evening sky darkened. My knees brushed Henri’s while I stroked my husband’s beard. 

Henri and I began to chat more intimately with our knees intertwined between the barstools while James’ hand caressed my back. The magnetism was unmistakable when Henri reached up and tucked a curl behind my ear as his voice washed over me. What he was saying was fascinating—his mind is brilliant—but I was finding it hard not to be distracted. We asked for the check as it became clear that the ice breaker portion of the evening was over. We parted ways in the parking lot after he and my husband discussed directions back to our place. 

I went to freshen up while James started music and set the lighting. Henri arrived 15 minutes later with a bottle of wine in hand. My husband poured us all a glass and we toasted our newfound friendship. Just enough liquid courage for us to feel comfortable, but not enough to dull decision making. We sat on the couch and discussed hard and soft limits, safe words, consent, and condoms. You’d think such negotiations would dampen the mood, but they seemed to only heighten the anticipation. Negotiations aside, James ramped up the music and I reclined on the couch—my head in James’ lap and feet in Henri’s. James’ touch was comforting and stimulating. Henri’s hands rubbed my feet, ankles, calves and made their way up my thighs—seeking and arousing. 

I stood up and began to sway to the thumping bass. Goosebumps rose under my fingers as I ran them over my skin; alternating touch between soft and hard, pleasure and pain, I flashed more leg as I wrung my fists in my skirt. Sudden heat burned against my back as Henri pressed his length into mine and began to match my movements. My core was an inferno. He wrapped one hand around my waist—fingers splayed across my soft belly—and the other around my throat. He turned my head and his lips crushed against mine. A whimper escaped me as his tongue invaded my mouth.

I felt as if I might combust, but before I did Henri’s hand was on my wrist unexpectedly stopping our dance. “On your knees,” he whispered against my earlobe. Even if I’d wanted to disobey, the heated command caused my knees to buckle. I caught James’ eye on the way to the floor and he asked if I was okay. “Yes. Sir…” I answered slowly, eliciting a groan from both men.

Henri made sure I was facing James, kneeled down, pulled my shirt off over my head, and proceeded to guide my wrists behind me. He aligned the backs of my hands together and began to wrap a cord over and under and through. The sheer grace and precision of the movements was intoxicating. My lips parted in a sigh and my eyelids became heavy as I locked eyes with James while Henri continued to wrap the cord.

Henri whispered in my ear. I am confident it was raunchy and most of it was in French. His breath against my neck as he spoke beautifully dirty foreign words had me clenching my thighs. His teeth nipped my earlobe as a shiver ran down my spine and a moan escaped me. He then proceeded to wrap a blindfold over my eyes and around my head ensuring I could not see before tying the ends and backing away. I licked my lips and my breath quickened as my other senses were heightened. 

“Open up,” came Henri's voice from in front of me. I tentatively parted my lips. “Wider, babe,” he instructed as he pushed two fingers into my mouth and began moving them in and out. My lips clamped around them and I instinctively started to suck on his fingers. “Did I tell you to suck?” His voice was dominating but oh so sexy. Flustered, I managed a “No, sir,” around his invading digits. Hands gripped my hair—his? My husband’s?—and pulled my head back, opening my mouth wider and thrusting my chest forward. James’ fingers grasped and tweaked one of my nipples through my lacy bra as Henri’s fingers continued to assault my mouth.

I groaned in frustration and only received laughter from both men as a response. Henri withdrew his fingers. “Stick out your tongue.” He’d barely finished the command before my tongue was hanging out as I panted in front of my audience. I soon felt the smooth, silky hardness I was hoping for tapping lightly against the tip of my tongue. “You may lick me,” Henri granted and I flicked my tongue against the head of his penis. He hissed in response before firmly pushing into my mouth. I wasn’t quite prepared and I gagged at the intrusion. His cock was larger than James’. He pulled back briefly so I could catch my breath before plunging forward again. With my hands behind my back I was completely at his mercy. He fucked my mouth while I tried to maintain my balance before he slowed, “You may suck me now.” Given permission, I took over the rhythm sucking and bobbing as Henri swore while praising me. Warmth flooded my core as I felt him grow even larger in my mouth.

Henri suddenly backed away with an audible pop as his cock was removed from the suction of my mouth. Everyone groaned. “Stand up,” he commanded and then proceeded to help me to my feet as my knees were shaky. James stood and put his hands on both sides of my face, kissing me and asking if I was alright. “I’m so good. So very good,” I answered as I stood blindfolded and awaited the next orders. I heard movement and quiet conversation as Henri and James discussed something just beyond my hearing. 

James returned and took my hand. “We’re moving this party to the bedroom,” he said as he gently led the way to my side of the bed. He then removed my skirt, leaving me in my lace bra and panties, the red ones I bought on our trip to Barcelona. The cups allow my breasts to spill over just enough. The matching thong had enough material to tease while allowing my curvy backside to be on display. I felt James move away as Henri came closer and began to unwind the ties on my wrists. When those were free, he unhooked my bra, slid down my panties, and told me to lie on my back. Henri grabbed my hand and gave me a clit stimulation vibe and requested that I show him how I use it. I turned on the device and applied it to my already swollen nub. In no time, I was writhing under the strong vibrations and felt ringing in my ears. 

Henri and James moved toward me from each side—James on his side of the bed and Henri beside it—and they both began to touch me. Hands traveled the length of my body. Pinching and twisting and rubbing and scratching. My exhalations increased as Henri moved his face closer to mine. He licked the seam of my lips, “You are not allowed to come,” he said against them. I shuddered and removed the vibe. “Um, sir?” “Put the vibe back on your clit. You are not allowed to come until I give you permission.”

I groaned and whimpered and tried to control my breathing. I gasped when I felt cold on my nipple and realized James was running a glass dildo over my peaked nipple. Henri took my other breast into his mouth and began to suck and nibble as I tried to maintain control. The men then switched tasks. Suddenly my cunt was invaded by two thick fingers. I cried out in surprise and pleasure. “Do you want to come?” Henri asked. “God yes. Please sir.” “Not yet,” he answered as fingers continued to stroke in and out of my wet pussy. 

“Please. Please!” I begged. My begging was answered by a tweak of my nipple. “I don’t know how much longer I can take it.” Henri leaned down again. “You are stronger than you think. Be patient and it will be worthwhile,” he whispered. He allowed me to decrease the speed of vibrations on my clit which eased my need infinitesimally. I groaned when the fingers were just as suddenly removed from me but sighed when they were replaced by a dildo. 

James moved in closer and began to rain kisses on my mouth, my neck, my collarbone as Henri fucked me with the dildo. My hips responded in kind, matching him thrust for thrust. My whimpers and moans began to increase as my internal temperature reached that of the sun. “Please, sir. Can I come?” 

Henri spoke firmly “I’m going to count down from 10 and then you may come.”

10 - The dildo is thrust faster and deeper.

9 - James takes off the blindfold.

8 - Henri begins to speak his wonderfully dirty sexy foreign words.

7 - James removes the clit stimulation.

6 - Henri’s mouth clamps down on my mound.

5 - James’ mouth clamps down on my nipple.

4 - My thighs tremble as I try to maintain control.

3 - Henri flicks his tongue over my clit.

2 - James flicks his tongue over my nipple.

1 - I cry out as I finally release the tension, gushing my approval of the evening’s events.