Monday, January 06, 2014

It has been my belief that Mirelle and her husband are the perpetuators, if not the originators of the occasional orgies that fuel the local legend.

Of course she is open about being a libertine, having invited herself into my bed on the first weekend that I stayed in my house. Also she has encouraged me to share her husband, curiously they downplay the rumors of orgies.

Saturday a cocktail party was held at a beach house. The host was someone that I've met on a few occasions, but who I really don't know. Calling this home a beach house diminishes its scope, beach mansion is more like it. Coming from the front this is a common French provincial pile with the main house interior being of that style, the back is more interesting. There is a glass enclosed room that features a large hot tub, a sunken sitting area arranged around a fireplace and in a corner where the room joins the main house there is bar.

The party was held mostly there, and in the adjacent living room. A dozen couples and a half dozen singletons. Some who I'd met and others were new. For a couple of hours we stood about, nibbling on finger food and sipping cocktails while keeping the conversation to niceties. Everyone kept their clothes on and no one went near the hot tub.

By eleven most had left and the rest were sitting around the fire. Mirelle, her husband and another couple to my right, a new to the area younger couple across from me and our host to my left. Two men were at the bar watching American football.

The conversation had turned to gossip of the salacious sort with well placed double entendres followed by laughter. During a pause in the conversation Mirelle and the woman next to her began kissing, check that, making out, in a manner that was meant to seem spontaneous. The husbands looked on approvingly while the rest of us just watched, the gents at the bar turning away from the game.

The women came up for air and switched places to schnog with the other's partner. The couple across from me were engrossed in a fierce discussion and one of the men at the bar was heading toward me pulling out his phallus and waving it about with the intention of harpooning my throat. The couple headed for the door, him in the lead and her taking a look back. "Too bad," I thought, "she's cute, maybe another…," but at the moment I needed to decide, suck or duck.

Kim

1 Comments:

Anonymous VJ said...

Ah, the French, even your sad sack of a PM gets more than enough action evidently! But sounds like fun for neighbors! Cheers & Good Luck, 'VJ'

8:52 AM  

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