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Obsessions
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Bi-Sexual Female / 36
My Wife Camille,
Way back in college my now husband, then boyfriend, liked having another girl in bed with us. The more pussy the better. He liked having me go down on the other girl and fuck me hard in the ass. At first I didn't like going down, putting your nose in pussy isn't an instinct. Neither is having a dick shoved up your ass. But the combination worked and I ate pussy and made sure I was lubed up and took his dick.
Move on to 2016. I turned 30 and my husband g*fted me a trip to Europe. We went from place to place and we were in the Prado museum in Madrid and he hired a girl, an art history girl, to show us around. Her name is Camille. Half Spaniard, half French. The first girl ever that I wanted to kiss, to spread her legs, to eat her ass. It was just the two of us being led around and I asked as many questions as I could, walked beside her, and took her by the hand towards this painting or that one. Never, never, never had I been so infatuated as I was with Camille.
I told my husband in a whisper that if he gave her to me for my birthday I would give up the diamond studs he offered me. One night. That's all I asked. Give me Camille. On the way out, we stood in the courtyard outside the museum and my husband asked her if she was available to show us around, to be our guide for a night out in Madrid. I looked at her, our eyes locked and begged, begged for her to say yes. I stepped forward, to her and asked with my eyes, holding her hand if she would please be our guide. And I kissed her on the cheek and she said it wasn't allowed. Possessed by the moment I kissed her gently on the lips and she agreed she would see us at eight at our hotel.
We sat in the lobby waiting for her, and like an angel she appeared, in going out clothes, slim legs, high top pants, an almost see through blouse with a black bra, a simple medallion on her chest. I stood and took her by both hands and kissed her gently on the lips and she started back at me, I kissed her again and this time she returned my kiss. We went from place to place, in the non tourist part of town, holding hands and kissing as we went. I told her in the moonlight that I never thought I would ever fall in love but I was. I kissed her in a long, long kiss and held her tight and she asked me about my husband and I told her he liked her too, but most of all he wanted me to be happy.
I used my poor French to invite her to our room, I told her that he wasn't going to do anything to her, only me, after we made love. I was his desert, always was. She rode up the elevator with us, I brushed my teeth and gave her my wet toothbrush for her to brush her teeth with me. I got on my knees and pushed my nose up between her legs and she held my head against her. She asked again about my husband and I told her he would sit and watch, he wouldn't fuck her, only me. I promised.
The bed was pulled down when we got back to the bedroom and I helped her undress, her small breasts and brown nipples, her thighs hard from riding a bike, her butt hard too, she was in shape, her pussy visible under a very light covering of pubic hair. I undressed for her, as she lay on the bed waiting and let her see me pull off my bra, my breasts free. hung from my chest, my bushy pubes a dark triangle against my fair skin. I ate her. Ate her. And while I had her down my husband ran me through with his dick and I went off in a way I hardly ever did, I fell off her and my husband pounced and ran her through as well. fucking her with all his might, I reached between him and her and rubbed her clit hard and she came, like French women do, they die.
It took us a year to get her a student visa to bring her to us. A long year, not without going to see her, or having her come over to check out schools. in 2018 my husband divorced me so I could marry her and keep her here. I took his name in college and now she took his name too. She's brought me happiness, contentment, fulfillment. I can only say I never knew what being in love would be like. She forgave my husband for his heinous act on her, to marry me and be with me.
She doesn't care for whiskers, not on her cheeks or between her thighs. She frowns on his dick, but knows she's as much his as she is mine. We returned to Europe for her 30th, no one needed to guide us around. We went to the same hotel in Madrid and she opened herself up to him, closed her eyes, held my hand and let him ravish her in a way a man does when he has been denied. She's his wife too, not only mine.
Move on to 2016. I turned 30 and my husband g*fted me a trip to Europe. We went from place to place and we were in the Prado museum in Madrid and he hired a girl, an art history girl, to show us around. Her name is Camille. Half Spaniard, half French. The first girl ever that I wanted to kiss, to spread her legs, to eat her ass. It was just the two of us being led around and I asked as many questions as I could, walked beside her, and took her by the hand towards this painting or that one. Never, never, never had I been so infatuated as I was with Camille.
I told my husband in a whisper that if he gave her to me for my birthday I would give up the diamond studs he offered me. One night. That's all I asked. Give me Camille. On the way out, we stood in the courtyard outside the museum and my husband asked her if she was available to show us around, to be our guide for a night out in Madrid. I looked at her, our eyes locked and begged, begged for her to say yes. I stepped forward, to her and asked with my eyes, holding her hand if she would please be our guide. And I kissed her on the cheek and she said it wasn't allowed. Possessed by the moment I kissed her gently on the lips and she agreed she would see us at eight at our hotel.
We sat in the lobby waiting for her, and like an angel she appeared, in going out clothes, slim legs, high top pants, an almost see through blouse with a black bra, a simple medallion on her chest. I stood and took her by both hands and kissed her gently on the lips and she started back at me, I kissed her again and this time she returned my kiss. We went from place to place, in the non tourist part of town, holding hands and kissing as we went. I told her in the moonlight that I never thought I would ever fall in love but I was. I kissed her in a long, long kiss and held her tight and she asked me about my husband and I told her he liked her too, but most of all he wanted me to be happy.
I used my poor French to invite her to our room, I told her that he wasn't going to do anything to her, only me, after we made love. I was his desert, always was. She rode up the elevator with us, I brushed my teeth and gave her my wet toothbrush for her to brush her teeth with me. I got on my knees and pushed my nose up between her legs and she held my head against her. She asked again about my husband and I told her he would sit and watch, he wouldn't fuck her, only me. I promised.
The bed was pulled down when we got back to the bedroom and I helped her undress, her small breasts and brown nipples, her thighs hard from riding a bike, her butt hard too, she was in shape, her pussy visible under a very light covering of pubic hair. I undressed for her, as she lay on the bed waiting and let her see me pull off my bra, my breasts free. hung from my chest, my bushy pubes a dark triangle against my fair skin. I ate her. Ate her. And while I had her down my husband ran me through with his dick and I went off in a way I hardly ever did, I fell off her and my husband pounced and ran her through as well. fucking her with all his might, I reached between him and her and rubbed her clit hard and she came, like French women do, they die.
It took us a year to get her a student visa to bring her to us. A long year, not without going to see her, or having her come over to check out schools. in 2018 my husband divorced me so I could marry her and keep her here. I took his name in college and now she took his name too. She's brought me happiness, contentment, fulfillment. I can only say I never knew what being in love would be like. She forgave my husband for his heinous act on her, to marry me and be with me.
She doesn't care for whiskers, not on her cheeks or between her thighs. She frowns on his dick, but knows she's as much his as she is mine. We returned to Europe for her 30th, no one needed to guide us around. We went to the same hotel in Madrid and she opened herself up to him, closed her eyes, held my hand and let him ravish her in a way a man does when he has been denied. She's his wife too, not only mine.
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