by Felix Baron
Given the choice of anywhere in the world for their ‘first’ honeymoon, Trixie opted for two weeks in Paris. ‘Penny speaks fluent French,’ she explained. ‘That’ll be handy.’
That was the first hint Rolf had had that Trixie expected Penny to accompany them on their honeymoon. Still, he and Trixie would be sleeping together, legitimately, so having Penny along wouldn’t have to spoil things for them. It wasn’t as if he didn’t like the girl. If anything, he liked her far too much.
Trixie had started referring to Penny and herself as ‘Rolf’s women’. At first, that made Rolf vaguely uncomfortable but he gradually came to like it. There was something very ‘alpha-male’ about the expression.
Most of the women’s furniture was to go into storage, with just a few special pieces going to the new house. Penny volunteered to take care of those arrangements, plus putting the co-op on sale, and of the travel plans. She really was both useful and very competent, in contrast to her ditzy mother. Between them, Rolf considered he had everything a man could possible ask for in ‘his women’.
The three of them shopped for furniture together. They found most of what they needed at Lost City Arts, in Cooper Square, but not until they’d spent the previous four solid days scouring the City and buying nothing but an eighteen-inch bronze reproduction of Michelangelo’s David. Trixie fondled it and said that it turned her on, which was good enough for Rolf.
The women would need cars once they moved. They settled on a pair of matching metallic-blue Lexus LX 460s.
Rolf gave them his Black American Express card and sent them shopping, Trixie for her trousseau and Penny for ‘travelling clothes’. Penny pointed out that once Trixie was in Paris, there’d be no stopping her raiding the fashion houses, ‘So why shop beforehand?’
Rolf assured her that ‘his women’ could buy finery ‘before, during and after’ the honeymoon, with his blessing, ‘and don’t forget to check the bikinis.’
They took him up on that and giggled when they made oblique references to the sexiness of the swimwear they’d found. ‘You’re teasing me,’ he complained.
Penny stroked his cheek. ‘Poor Rolf! Mom, shall we give him a sneak preview, just one of yours and one of mine?’
‘If he’ll promise to be good. No ravishing until we’re legal, right, Rolf?’
He agreed, of course. To ‘show their suits in the right setting’, the women insisted on going down to the pool. When they threw off their wraps and struck their poses, Rolf suspected that once again, there’d be more, or less, to the suits than it seemed at first glance.
Both suits came from the same manufacturer, obviously. They were in matching leopard prints. Trixie’s was another one-piece, but four-inch strips down both of her sides were left bare, with the front and back of her suit lacing together. Penny’s was a bikini, with the bottom lacing at the sides like Trixie’s.
‘And the secret is?’ he asked.
Trixie pouted. ‘You guessed!’
‘Just that there has to be a secret, not what it is.’
‘Come into the whirlpool and you’ll find out,’ she challenged.
Rolf led the way into the swirling water, followed by Trixie and, to his disappointment, Penny. He had memories of that whirlpool that he’d have liked to renew.
The ‘secret’ was one he’d secretly suspected. When wet, the leopard spots stayed opaque but the rest of the fabric turned transparent.
‘His women’ giggled and exchanged whispers frequently, often with sly glances at him. Coming up to his wedding, those are things a man has to endure. They were teasing little minxes, both of them, and he loved it that they were, even though it became hard to bear. Between them, Trixie with blatant intent and Penny by just being her natural self, they kept him in a constant state of arousal. It was an exquisite torment.
They ‘forced’ him to accompany them to a lingerie fashion show. Trixie’s cooed comments, into his right ear, ‘How would you like to see my tits in that wispy little bra? – Imagine running your fingers up under the legs of those French knickers’, and the like, didn’t embarrass him too much. Penny’s simple, ‘Do you think that’d suit me, Rolf?’ whispered into his left ear, did. He was supposed to be imagining his bride-to-be in flimsy frippery. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about his soon-to-be step-daughter’s body draped in scraps of black lace.
Trixie took to wearing wrap-around skirts. If, in a restaurant, or when driving, Rolf didn’t take advantage by sliding his hand under her skirt’s flap and caressing her thigh, she grabbed his wrist and put his hand exactly where she wanted it. She couldn’t lean past Rolf, it seemed, without her elbow nudging his erection. She whispered to him a lot, and each whisper ended with her nibbling on the lobe of his ear. Often the whispers were things like, ‘My nipples are getting hard from me thinking about you sucking on them, Rolf’, or, ‘My pussy’s soaking wet for you, Rolf. Can you smell it?’
Trixie kept her word about using her hands on his cock and took advantage of every chance she got to do so. Unfortunately, those chances somehow never lasted for long enough for him to climax. Rolf felt as if he was fast approaching critical mass. Ten more days. Nine . . .
Seventeen
The ceremony was booked for ten. It started at ten-twenty and lasted sixteen minutes. Married and legal, the happy couple plus Penny stopped off at their two apartments for their luggage, to change into casual travelling clothes and for the rented limo to pick them up. They had time to stop for a celebratory champagne lunch on the way to Newark.
Rolf was a member of Continental Airline’s Presidents Club. That meant free snacks and drinks in a luxurious lounge while they waited for their flight. Rolf had coffee. Penny had a white wine spritzer. Trixie managed to down three martinis, ‘Because I’m deathly scared of flying.’
In Business-First, the drinks are free and unlimited. Trixie fell asleep after her first two on-board martinis but woke in time to dine with her daughter and her new husband on an excellent bouillabaisse, followed by assorted cheeses and a large dry sherry, and a cointreau, and another cointreau and another cointreau.
After an in-flight shower, that she’d taken because she ‘wanted to be wide-awake and squeaky clean for you when we get to the hotel. It’ll save time getting to bed, Lover’, Trixie was ready for more martinis.
A flight attendant arranged for a wheelchair that Rolf pushed Trixie in through French customs and as far as their waiting limo. At their hotel on the rive droite, he and Penny half-carried her up to their suite. Rolf allowed Penny to get Trixie undressed and into bed. After all, the girl didn’t have any idea how familiar he already was with her mother’s body.
Penny gave Rolf a hug and a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth. ‘She’ll be fine tomorrow,’ his new step-daughter assured him. ‘She’s always been afraid to fly. The only way she can manage it is if she’s a bit tipsy.’
He said, ‘Totally plastered, you mean.’
Penny gave him a sympathetic shrug.
Rolf slid into bed as carefully as he could. Trixie was naked and facing the other way. He put a loving arm over her but that brought his aching cock into contact with her warm bare bottom. A gentleman doesn’t do things to a woman who has passed out, not even if it’s his wife. Not even if it’s his wedding night. Not even if he’s spent a month in an agony of frustration and has been promised, fervently promised, that it was going be the most exciting night of his entire life.
Rolf backed away, leaving just his fingertips gently on Trixie’s shoulder. She shrugged them off in her sleep. He rolled over and tried not to think of the sumptuous womanly body that lay inches behind him, nor of the supple girlish one that slept just one room away.
In the morning, both Trixie and Rolf were jet-lagged, although Penny was bright and perky. Rolf said he’d be fine if he got some fresh air and sunshine. Trixie took three aspirins and two sleeping pills with her coffee and went back to bed.
‘So how do we amuse ourselves?’ Rolf asked Penny.
‘Seeing that you’re an engineer who specialises in stress in large structures, I thought we’d go see the Eiffel Tower.’
Rolf smiled, pleased. ‘You know about my speciality?’
‘Of course. So?’
‘Won’t your Mom want to see the Eiffel?’
‘If she does, I won’t mind seeing it twice.’
The cab dropped them a hundred yards from the Tower. The roads don’t go any closer. Rolf bought himself and Penny hot-dogs from a street-vendor to supplement their continental breakfast. In the open elevator going up, Penny asked Rolf intelligent questions about the structure and was incredibly impressed by his knowledgeable answers. On the top platform, she was intimidated by the height and clung to his arm until she got used to it.
The view helped. Below them was the École Militaire, the French military school. Beyond that, Paris was a maze of rooftops that looked to be close enough that you could step from one to the next. There were rain clouds to the west. They could see shimmering silver curtains of rain divided by brilliant beams of golden sunshine. Gradually, Penny relaxed. Before long, she was running from side to side of the platform, gleeful as an unleashed pup.
Something distant caught her eye. To Rolf’s alarm, she hitched herself up onto the wide iron balustrade, her feet off the floor, balancing on her tummy. Her skirt was short, very short, and he was behind her. Even as he rushed to hold her in safety, the image of her squirming young thighs burned into his libido.
‘I won’t fall, silly,’ she said. ‘But if you feel better holding me, that’s OK.’
His hands were on her hips. Her bottom and the backs of her legs were pressed against the front of his body. Rolf edged back a few inches, slowly, so as not to draw attention to how close he’d been, but he still held her hips and they were vibrantly mobile under his palms as she twisted and craned for better views.
After, they walked the Champs Élysées and found a sidewalk café for a late lunch. Rolf ate most of the best and biggest ham sandwich he’d ever been served: a fresh eighteen-inch crusty baguette, slathered with sweet butter, filled with a slab of tender ham half an inch thick and smothered in very mild Dijon mustard. Penny was content with a croissant and apricot preserves, though she opened the third of Rolf’s sandwich that he couldn’t finish and devoured the ham from it.
He said, ‘Mustard, corner of your mouth.’
Her tongue lapped out, giving Rolf a guilty reminder of the way her mother had licked his semen from her lips.
Penny eyed a pair of slender mademoiselles who were strolling arm-in-arm as elegantly as if they’d been on a catwalk. She said, ‘They say you’ll see the most beautiful women in the world, in Paris.’
Rolf said, ‘That’s true now, ever since you and your Mom arrived.’
Penny beamed. ‘What a charmer you are, Rolf. No wonder my Mom adores you.’
‘And I her.’
‘Rolf?’ She gazed into his eyes with an intensity that made him uncomfortable. ‘Rolf, thank you. Thank you for being so kind and for understanding my Mom. I know she drinks too much, sometimes, but it’s only because she’s been so lonely since my Dad died. That’ll change now she’s got you taking care of her.’
‘She’s very special, Penny. I’m a lucky man.’
‘And she’s a lucky woman. Me too.’
‘Because of Andrew?’
‘Yes, but because of you, too.’
She reached over to rest her fingertips on the back of his hand. Her nails weren’t painted but they were almond-shaped and quite pointed. He’d never noticed that before. They’d leave deep scratches down a man’s back, if . . .
‘Shall we walk some more?’ he asked, keeping his voice as light as he could.
They got back to their suite at five. Trixie was already up, made-up, dressed in a clinging black velvet pantsuit, and vivacious, though languorous as a cat. When she walked, she padded. A yawn elongated her torso, narrowing her waist and exposing a three-inch strip of skin between her pants and her top. Rolf had never seen her look so desirable, not while fully dressed.
Penny announced, ‘Our reservation at The Crazy Horse is for seven, so we’d best get ready.’
‘We’re going out?’ Rolf asked.
‘I’ve got us reservations at three shows and a couple of clubs, spread out over our two weeks,’ Penny told him. ‘The Internet is a wonderful tool.’
He turned to Trixie. ‘Are you up for it, darling?’ he asked, hoping she’d say she wasn’t. The consummation of their marriage was long overdue.
‘Doesn’t that show have a reputation for being rather risqué?’ Trixie asked her daughter.
‘We’re in Paris, Mom.’
‘So it does? Good. Rolf will enjoy that, won’t you Rolf?’
He nodded, with reservations. Yes, he liked to look at beautiful female bodies but right then, the body he desperately wanted was Trixie’s. His appetite didn’t need stimulating.
‘And we’ll be back here by eleven, for an early night, you lovebirds,’ Penny promised.
There was ample nudity in the show but it was elegantly presented. Rolf was concerned Penny might be shocked by the display of so many naked breasts but she passed Trixie’s opera glasses to and fro and didn’t blush or giggle. The showgirls were of all ethnicities. When a statuesque ebony beauty, sporting a peacock’s tail of feathers and wearing nothing else but an elaborate mask, strutted across the stage, Trixie whispered into Rolf’s ear. ‘Ever had a black girl, Rolf? Ever made love to one?’
He coughed. ‘No.’
‘Me neither, a black man. A lot of women crave “midnight love” because black men are reputed to have such enormous cocks.’
Rolf popped a shrimp into his mouth to avoid having to comment.
‘I’m very happy with your cock,’ Trixie continued. ‘When we get back to our suite, I’ll show you just how happy.’ She reached under the cover of the table cloth and squeezed his cock through his pants.
Rolf covered her hand with his and moved it aside. ‘Penny,’ he reminded Trixie.
‘She’s watching the show – the one on stage. I bet she wouldn’t even notice if I was to . . .’ Her fingers moved to the tab of his fly’s zipper.
‘Trixie! No!’
‘Am I bad?’ she asked, almost giggling. ‘Are you going to spank me?’
‘I’ve a good mind to do just that,’ he threatened.
‘And I’ve a good mind to let you.’
For the rest of the show, Trixie seemed content to rest her hand on his thigh and press her leg against his.
They didn’t get out until eleven, and then had to wait in line in the drizzle for a taxi. It was after midnight by the time they let themselves into their suite.
Trixie said, ‘You shower first, Lover. I’ll be quick with mine, I promise. I’m as eager to get to bed as you are.’
Penny said, ‘Mother!’
Trixie tapped her daughter’s wrist. ‘It’s our honeymoon, remember.’
Penny flounced off to her room with a brief ‘Goodnight!’
Rolf asked, ‘Is she OK?’
‘Just jealous, Lover. At her age, her hormones are beginning to seethe.’
‘And at your age?’
‘They’re boiling, Lover. Now go shower before I rape you right here and now!’
‘Promises!’
He shaved and showered and brushed his teeth and cologned in record time. Naked under the bedclothes, he strained to hear Trixie’s progress. Keeping to her promise, she joined him only fifteen minutes later, in a pale-blue chiffon garment that reminded him of baby-doll pyjamas, but without the bottoms and with the ribbon-tied top cut below her breasts, cradling them. True to form, she was carrying a pair of martinis. When she gave him his, she stole his olive and rolled it up under her nightie, in her navel, while he gulped his drink in two swallows.
‘Your cock and I need to get reacquainted,’ she announced.
Rolf threw the bedclothes aside, showing off his rigid erection. ‘Trixie, meet my c
ock. Cock, meet my wife, Trixie. You’ll be seeing a lot of her from now on.’
She sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes hot on his shaft. ‘God, but you’ve a beautiful cock, Rolf,’ she husked.
‘Thank you.’
‘No, thank you!’
She took hold of its base, leaned over and parted her lips around its head. Her mouth closed, warm and wet. Her tongue lapped. Bobbing, Trixie started to pump Rolf’s shaft. He reached down to get a breast into his palm, a nipple to roll between his fingers. It’d been four long weeks, plus a full day, and this was what had obsessed his every moment.
Trixie pushed down, taking him deep, and kept bobbing, making obscene wet noises around the head of his cock.
Rolf gasped, ‘Slow down, Trixie. I can’t take much of that without . . . Oh! Trixie!’ His hand knotted in her hair and tried to drag her head up but the feeling he recognised as the sign it was past the time to stop tingled in the base of his shaft. His hand fell from her head. Rolf lay back and let it happen. The spurting started in his balls, thickened his shaft as it rushed through and burst into Trixie’s mouth.
‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured. ‘I wanted you so much – I just couldn’t . . .’
‘My fault,’ she claimed. ‘I was desperate to taste you and got greedy. Don’t worry, Lover. We’ll do everything. There’s no rush. You just lay back and close your eyes for a little while. I’ll watch over you until you’re ready again.’
Rolf was determined not to rest for more than ten minutes but the after-climax warm contentment swallowed him. When he woke, there was daylight in the room. Trixie was sitting up, wearing a fresh satin nightgown, and Penny was perched on the foot of their bed, drinking coffee, wearing a short towelling robe and dewy from her shower.
‘Do you want to do the Louvre today and tomorrow,’ she asked, ‘or today and some other day, later on? It’ll take at least two full days and even then we won’t do it justice.’
He said, ‘Today’s good by me. We can decide about a second day, after.’ Penny wouldn’t have planned anything for the evening, not after a day looking at art. They could have an early night and he’d be able to make up to Trixie for his performance last night, or his lack of one.