Last week, we escaped to a discreet pension in the Haute-Alpes. Private suites perched at piste’s edge. Velvet cushions, crackling fireplace downstairs. Sheer exclusivity. Me, Catie, 42, runner’s lithe body. Laurent, my husband, work-obsessed, joining later. Friends Véronique and Bruno, same age. Her blonde curves, bubbly. Him, dark, athletic. Their boys, 12 and 14, with our son. First group trip. Paris fog behind us.
Arrived at dawn. Owner led us to top-floor gems. Our compact studio: king bed, bunk beds, steaming shower. Their larger suite adjacent. Boys crammed in ours for easy watch. I hesitated. Craved space. But agreed. Skis rented, passes bought. Quick runs to warm up. Exhausted by four. Hot showers. Promiscuity prickled.
The Privilege
Night one. Dinner by roaring fire. Kids asleep by 8:30. I slipped into silk pajamas. Drew out sofa-bed. Véronique and Bruno emerged from bath in robes. She dropped hers, nude curves glowing. He followed, bare ass firm. I drifted off.
The Excess
Day two. Powder paradise. Evening repeat. While I read to boys, they showered first. Out in robe, I caught Véronique nude on belly. Bruno oiling her back, pareo low. Heat flushed me. She invited: ‘Join us.’ Heart raced. Silk pyjama shed. Oiled from toes to shoulders. Relaxed under her touch. Then his strong hands on my lumbar. Flipped. Exposed. Nipples hard. His fingers circled belly, grazed mound. She straddled my thigh. He shed pareo. Thick cock swaying.
Véro stroked him. His digits on my slick folds. I clenched. She blocked. Tongue dove in. He fucked her from behind. Waves built. I shattered twice. Soft girl-on-girl since college. She knelt over my face. I lapped her juice. He sucked me. Fingers plunged. Then bare cock at my entrance. ‘No condom?’ ‘Safe.’ Legs splayed. He pounded. Cum flooded deep. Jets on belly. We tangled, slept entwined.
