Timegasms 3 - JFK

[7/16/15 Fixed typo, 8/7 fixed flow and clarified Endnote]

... [This story includes: anal, sciFi, loving wives, exhibitionism, oral and maybe mind control... you pick any you like]

I wasn't sure if I were going to tell Ted about Canada or how to broach all that happened there, but after our extreme adventure on the métro, half that story would be safe. No need to bring it up yet! We watched the stills first and moaned excitedly, but when we watched the video of me stripping and three strangers filling my mouth with their meat and cream and Ted sucking cock . . . it was too much for popcorn. Somehow Ted remembered to pause the video so we could maul each other with our breathless, rutting passion . . . over and over and over . . .

We woke mid morning, naked on our bed and facing the open balcony doors. My cheeks still hurt from smiling so much! Ted suggested we take in the major touristy spots, at least Montmartre, l'Arc de Triumph et la Tour Eiffel today, racy Moulin Rouge tonight and I want to take a night ride on the Seine. Tomorrow we can rent a car for a long country ride including Cosne sur Loire. I wonder if anyone rents the infamous, quirky 2CV.

Ted put on conservative shorts and a polo top, but insisted I wear a short skirt and short, white crop top over absolutely nothing. "Ohhh! Do you plan to show me off again, you pervert?" I teased. He said he would if possible and knew now that I'd enjoy flashing strangers as much as he loved watching me and them. If he only knew!

We walked the tour of Montmartre. Ted chose one of the street artists to sketch us, but insisted on his choice of poses. He sat me on his lap with my arm on his shoulders. It took only a moment to realize that my short top exposed the rounded bottom of both breasts to the artist. Ted made sure it climbed enough to expose half my nipples. That thought made them twist and harden. He adjusted my legs so one knee was across his lap, but the other was provocatively aimed directly at the artist. Who was this man claiming to be my husband!?

My skirt sagged between my legs so Ted pulled it taut and high up my thighs which surely exposed my naked pussy to yet another stranger! The artist's arched eyebrow and stunned stare between my legs confirmed it. I looked at Ted and saw him smirking at the artist's admiration. "Tres belle, n'est pas, ca vulve?" The artist slowly nodded agreement that my pussy was indeed pretty. I smiled. "Sil vous plait, sois sûr d'inclure ses lèvres et les mamelons de votre croquis." I blushed, but left my legs apart. THAT was a little direct, insisting he include my labia and nipples in the sketch! I can't yet imagine where in our home I can hang that framed sketch!

When painstakingly completed, down to a bit of labia stubble, the artist rolled the sketch into a tube and salaciously kissed my

hand as he delivered it. He held it down until I had to bend enough for him to enjoy my prominent tits slipping from my crop top. We walked away, aware of and ignoring the hot summer breeze that surely lifted my skirt. This extreme flashing was a dizzying high unlike any I've ever felt!

After a brief, calming stop for croissants and cafe-au-lait, we headed to la Tour Eiffel. It looks so much bigger when you are under it looking up. We saw cameras with long zoom lenses shooting up my loose skirt and billowing crop top and giggled. After performing 'carelessly' on the new glass floor for the horde below us, we walked up the many steps and giggled at all the horny local eyes looking up my skirt at my smiling snatch. Often taking two steps at once, my bald pussy sent drops down my thigh. I was abashed, and thrilled.

We took the elevator the rest of the way, but Ted wasn't done exposing me yet. When I stood with my back against the rail, he began filming me and the denuding effect of the erratic wind. The wind was chilly so high up. I kept my hands behind my head as I let the wind blow my top to my chin, hang there and finally drop to my hard, cold nipples. A crowd slowly formed near us. My tiny skirt was also whipped teasingly beyond my damp pussy, then up against my big tits. I fought my instinct to push it back down, instead, let it fall and whip up again at the whim of the assaulting wind. At one point I closed my eyes to let my admirers have a guilt-free gander at my privates, then peeked at each to share in their voyeuristic glee. Ted wasn't the only one taking a video. Normally offended by the invasion of my privacy, I was exhilarated that so many would own and share an intimate piece of me as their personal porn when they jacked or jilled off.

As a last hurrah, Ted had me turn and hold the metal netting as I leaned a bit over the rail. To rest my hips on the rail, I had to slide lower, which I did by spreading and sliding my legs apart. I know my wet pussy and both cheeks were in full view and photographed by many. I couldn't wait to see what my rear pussy shot looked like. After Ted took extended high and very low shots of me, we hoofed it back down. "Ya know, Ted, I was hoping you'd pull out that obviously stiff cock and let someone video us together somehow. Think how much our kids will love seeing THAT!"

"I considered it, even without the filming, but there were gendarmes nearby. They enjoyed your 'accidentally' exposed charms, but would probably arrest me since the wind can't accidentally unzip and drop my pants, pull out my cock and insert it into your wet hole. I'll survive the wet spot in my shorts for now. Let's get to l'Arc de Triomphe." So we casually made our way down Les Champs-Élysées, swinging hand-in-hand like kids, to the infamous Paris circle. We quietly sang the Champs chanson, which I didn't know existed until that day. At least the chorus. I found full lyrics on Google and Youtube.

Aux Champs-Élysées, aux Champs-Élysées

Au soleil, sous la pluie, à midi ou à minuit

Il y a tout ce que vous voulez aux Champs-Élysées

When we came to the circle, Ted volunteered, "This is where I saved a girl's life when I was here with a multi school group several years ago. She started to cross the eight lanes and got half way when the traffic lights changed. The cars peeled out and she screeched. In panic, she ran back one lane, screeched again and ran back. When she repeated that, I ran into the traffic and planted us on a lane line and waited for a gap in the swirling cars. Holding her still by her shoulders, I walked her thru each dynamic gap until we made it to the center. And would you believe, we BOTH lived!?" We crossed safely at the light, entre les clous - that recalled an unfortunate miscommunication.

We walked in and around the Arc and visited the musee. Surprisingly, there was a temporary display there of all the world leaders who visited l'Arc, with the notable and understandable exception of Hitler since he was a classic example of a 'guest' who long overstayed his 'welcome'! I was drawn to the Kennedy display. He visited at the end of May 1961, which reminded me of the series of crises thrown at him in his aborted term.

My parents had a Kennedy shrine for many years. I couldn't appreciate how scary the world was then, far beyond domestic issues. My folks finally impressed on me how terrifying the mid-fifties to sixties were. They lived with the daily fear of a missile dropping a nuc on them with no more than twenty minutes warning. WW3 was always close and they knew WW4 would be fought with sticks and stones. Implications of Sputnik terrified them. Despite his flaws, JFK was our brave rock especially during the Cuban missile crisis. The Press didn't hound Presidents and Royalty back then, but respected their office, privacy and foibles. This got me wondering what he was REALLY like.

My curiosity grew and I decided to Google his life and trials. I heard his personal docs as well as friends' diaries and comments were recently declassified. I wondered if rumors of his personal conquests were true. Ted was no help since he never followed personal stories or anything but the headlines. My curiosity so demanded satisfaction that I suggested we skip the Crazy Horse show or Moulin Rouge tonight. Instead, we found an intimate brasserie and had a satisfying diner and excellent wine. My mind kept wandering to JFK, his rumored affairs and how he might have looked naked. Naughty me!

After Ted set his limits on our actions on the metro, I began feeling that I had cheated on him in Canada, especially since I wasn't sure I would ever tell him all I did there. Just asking for an early evening, wanting so desperately to Google JFK and likely fantasize about him filled me with guilt. Why? It's not that I ever screwed him or ever met him.

After wandering leisurely toward a boat depot on the Seine, we decided on the sunset tour, boarded and enjoyed a litre of Muscadet, a near local and tasty wine. We watched the golden gloaming on the windy top deck. The buzz from the wine slowed my reflexes somewhat. Yup! That was it, the wine!

Leaning lewdly over the rail allowed other passengers a great view of my personal moonscape. Occasionally, I gently and slowly tugged my flying, teasing skirt down. When I noticed camera flashes, I leaned farther and offered a better view of my tantalizing, plump labia and let my prominent boobs swing free over the flowing water. As I savored my indecent exposure, Ted oddly jostled his arm over my lower back. Then I realized that his arm was holding my skirt hem against my waist to allow a prolonged view of my cheeks and happy pussy. I let him enjoy his presenting me to yet another uncounted number of enthralled voyeurs while I enjoyed my 'stranger' fantasy that in turn moistened my pussy which further increased my salacious arousal.

"I don't see any gendarmes nearby or on the boat, so. . . . " Ted volunteered. He turned my face and kissed me gently while caressing my exposed, bare ass. With his left hand, he unzipped and unhooked his slacks then managed to push them and his boxers to his feet. "Honey, I don't want you to be the only naked person on this boat, and I wanted a piece of the thrills too. I was about to say 'action', but THAT cums next." His right hand was circling my cheeks and diving deeper between them. The boat lights were on so we were both brightly displayed for everyone.

Another couple passed exceptionally close and both stroked both our bare asses as they did. The beautiful young woman leaned over, pet and squeezed Ted's semi hard dick. A slow pull brought it to full attention. Her guy boldly wet his finger in MY slit as they all watched him. It was all as casual as if we were old friends shaking hands, except that the stranger pushed deep into my wet pussy then sniffed my scent on his finger and offered it to his girl. She sniffed and licked it as her guy wrapped his tongue around his finger coated in my nectar. Ted and I moaned at the nervy sexploitation.

They stepped against the rail, she leaning over it, just two feet from us and he tucked her skirt into her belt to completely expose her frilly bikini panty. When she leaned farther forward, matching my lean, he wiggled her panty to the floor and she spread her legs widely, trapping the panty at her ankles. Her cute, shiny, bare ass barely had any tan lines and her exposure seemed even more lewd than mine due to the dangling panty. I couldn't see her pussy, though they got a close look at mine, but Ted was taking photos and I knew I would see it later.

When Ted leaned over the rail to take a photo of my dangling tits and hers, he signaled them to show us her tits. "Ah, oui! Pardon. Les voici." Saying that, he helped pull her arms out of her loose tank top, pushed it around her neck and signaled us with a grin and thumbs up. Her smaller tits swung freely and Ted got his pix. The stranger spread his wife's sexy cheeks and flourished them with pride to either offer them to us or suggest we get on with some fucking. This was becoming a dogging session and I was no longer opposed to that.

"I hadn't planned on this; I just wanted to show off and fuck my beautiful wife in public." Ted whispered. I sighed and told him he better get on with it then. He was stunned by my new openness and rubbed his stiff cock up and down my ass as passengers angled for a better view. As he began slipping his thick helm in my hungry pussy, André, the stranger slid a hand up my bare back and around to my free range tits. After rolling and testing my nipple for density, he slowly pulled my tit flesh and nipple as if he were slowly milking me. That's when he introduced himself and his wife, Rea.

Ted really got off on a stranger milking me as he fucked me and rapidly picked up speed. André pulled off his shirt, slacks and boxers and boldly tossed them aside. He fearlessly stood naked behind his wife and slowly jerked his long, slim cock as he rotated to display it to everyone. I'd never seen one so slim and long, not even in Canada. He taunted the passengers with his cut, purple bishop and flicking tongue.

He took Ted's right hand and guided it between his wife's cheeks. As Ted found and stroked her pink ass hole, André spread her cheeks and directed my husband's hand lower. I could tell by the interrupted pattern and stretching that Ted had found her pussy and was exploring it as he sporadically pummeled me. André suggested, "Nous pouvons échanger si vous le souhaitez?" He leered at me and my exposed ass. I was sure Ted would not swap with him, if only because we had no condoms. I couldn't yet tell him about taking two unsheathed Canadian cocks in all my holes and another in my mouth. If this continued to escalate . . .

"Non, merci. Nous ne sommes pas prêtes pour cela." Well, as far as HE knew, we weren't ready to swap. André gently slapped Rea's cute ass and shrugged as Ted withdrew and sniffed his finger. "Would you like a sniff, my love?" he teased. Nodding yes, I stunned him, by sucking his cum soaked finger like a cock. He groaned and returned to intensely fucking me, forcing my tits to collide chaotically. Rea was delicious.

André wasted no time angling his rod into Rea's soaked and swelling hole. He angled her toward me as he fucked her deeper and deeper. She stroked my hair, face then my tits. I pivoted slightly so I could pet her face and full B-cups. Ted and she moaned when I pinched her nipple. Staring into her beautiful face for just a moment, my eyes lost focus and my head moved toward her without guidance. Our lips met gently, then again and again. As our husbands fucked us for a crowd in various states of arousal and exposure, we kissed deeply, Frenchly and it was GOOD! Another first - my first serious, intense girl kiss.

The kiss and nipple love drove Ted over the edge and he grunted loudly as he unloaded and filled my pussy. That made me cum and moan into Rea's mouth. She climaxed and shuddered freely and later told us that André shot a dense spurt in her pussy then immediately pulled out and raided her ass as he filled it with the last of his cum. He knelt behind her and sucked his cum out of both her holes. Ted stared in disbelief.

André asked, "Tu ne vas pas à la nettoyer?" Interesting that he switched to the familiar form, though I guess we were much better acquainted now than mere strangers. I would be shocked if Ted did clean me as André had. Ted slowly shook his head and stared at my overflowing pussy as several in the crowd applauded. I blushed. André asked if HE could clean me up. Ted's eyes popped and he looked at me for an answer. I shrugged and nodded OK. Ted and his wilting cock took a step back.

André, and his still stiff cock knelt behind ME. I stiffened in anticipation of -another- stranger licking my pussy. Rea slipped her tongue in my mouth again and her husband spread my cheeks and licked Ted's escaped cum first from my thigh, then labia. My husband watched him slip his agile tongue between my lips, spread them and catch the gouts of cum falling onto the French tongue. As he drilled into my open pussy for more sticky treasure, he slipped a finger in me then slid it up to, then into my ass.

Ted was jerking his stiff-again cock as he watched André clean me out and finger fuck my ass. Rea broke off our kiss and knelt before Ted. She sucked his sticky cock deep into her throat and bobbed slowly without a gasp as André brought me closer to an ass climax. As I began to shudder and twitch on the gifted finger, Ted blasted another load into Rea's belly. André sat back, cock at full staff, "Quel merveilleux, savoureux mélange de votre sperme et de sa femme cum!"

I smiled that he found our mix so tasty and that Ted partook of Rea. That should make it easier for him to accept my cheating. We partially dressed, sat a while and watched the other couples we inspired having varied forms of sex. Rea and I wordlessly swapped places between our men then kissed and fondled each other, then turned and kissed each other's husband. As we watched the sights flow by, André lifted my skirt and fingered me as he Frenched me. That inspired Ted to do the same with Rea and her hot pussy.

At chilly nightfall, we went below to warm up and enjoy Paris at night. I asked André if they had seen the exhibit at l'Arc de Triomphe and relayed my impressions. Despite my residual guilt, I asked Ted for his smart phone and began extensively researching JFK. "I haven't been able to get Kennedy off my mind all day and my queries have taken an odd turn, Ted. My last search was for his penis size. I figured there was no way, but look at THIS! From released diaries, it says his dick was seven inches. This isn't right. It feels like . . . like it's just TMI! And about a President! Here's info about AF1 on his last day, its layout etc.,"

Rea seemed especially interested. Someone rushed in from the chilly deck and the wind sent up a cloud of dust. "Look at this, Ted, from diaries of so-called friends they really . . . " The dust hit me and, without thought, I automatically pinched an exposed nipple, ". . . aahh ahHH Ch . . . "

Oh NO! It's happened again! I looked down and confirmed I was completely naked, no jewelry or shoes either. The room I was in was empty and looked somehow fragile. The big mahogany desk was cleared and spotless with just a multi-line phone, a desk clock with calendar cards and one photo on it. My heart raced as I walked carefully around the desk and saw the photo was of Jackie, Caroline and jr. - John-John I think he was called. HOLY SHIT! Could this be JFK's office? I checked the clock/calendar flip card. It read 11:43 a.m., Friday, 11/22/63! That date was too familiar. ¹

Ignoring my chaotic tits, I ran to the door and saw the big Presidential seal on it. I threw it open and noted the plush, custom, empty interior of a big, narrow plane. This was JFK's 707 Air Force 1! The exits at the front and rear of the plane were open, but I ran to the nearest window. Focused on the President, I ignored Johnson, the Governor and their wives. JFK and Jackie, in her pink outfit, were just leaving the stairs and approaching the historic black convertible Lincoln. They greeted rapt fans as the Secret Service did their best at crowd control. I pounded on the window to warn or distract him and his detail. No one heard me. My aching, breaking heart watched him drive away in his last convertible ride. Tears ran down my face and dripped onto the carpet where JFK had stood just seconds before.

Desolated, I turned back to the office to soak in the energy he left behind. Not only was I a continent away, but I was in 1963!? WTF! I suddenly realized that my last thoughts before arriving here were of JFK and THIS room. Did that visualization somehow guide me here? Is that a way to control this odd ability?

I looked around the office for a reference and determined that the desk clock was my best choice. Since I had tripped the office door silent alarm, agents rushed from both ends of AF1 into the office, guns drawn. I heard them coming and forced a sneeze as I painfully squeezed a nipple. The agents, briefly stunned by the sight of a beautiful naked woman, blinked and watched her, me, pop away. Shocked by the incredible, unexplainable sight, they stared at each other and simultaneously gushed "I didn't see a thing!" Somehow, I heard their gasps of denial.