Geoff, Marie & Angie. The Honeymoon

Our mature trio travel to Europe. What could possibly go wrong?

We spent our first night together as an official - well in our minds - triad, together in our own bed. Yes, Angie still had her apartment and even her own room at our house because, as she admitted herself, sometimes she felt over-stimulated emotionally and needed a quiet space to decompress. But my senior wife had made it clear that Angie was as entitled to sleep in the marital bed as I was. I'm sure that she meant that in a good way.

We had stored our Star Wars themed wedding outfits neatly on hangers in our wardrobes ready to return to our student friends to submit as examples of their coursework in fashion and design. Angie in particular was adamant that she wanted her bespoke dress back to cherish. I'll admit that I had found my own outfit rather dashing but reluctantly have to confess that I'd struggle to find another occasion where it would be appropriate.

Marie was more sanguine about her own warrior queen outfit but I knew she'd still like to have it returned.

The outfits safely stored and our hygiene attended to, we turned to more carnal needs. It had been my intention that Marie and I should welcome Angie more intimately into our marriage but my wives - I love writing those words - my wives decided otherwise. They, God bless them, had conspired while I was in the bathroom and pounced as soon as I emerged.

Even now, the details of what followed are blurred, not by time but by overwhelming pleasure. They took turns in taking me in their mouths. Angie retained her crown, of course, but that should not be taken as an indication that Marie was a poor second. My senior wife was a world class fellatrix, but Angie was, and remains, an Olympian when it comes to oral sex.

Small wonder then that my brain turned to mush long before my penis got close to either vagina. I remember fragments of images and sensations; ploughing one woman from behind while she devoured the other's vulva; tit-fucking Marie while Angie tantalised my scrotum and anus from behind. That evening was like a compilation from the threesome folder on a porn site.

They knew me so well by then that they recognised my tells and saw the signs of impending orgasm. They must have edged me for thirty minutes or so before they finally relented. I think that it was Angie who was mounted on me when they allowed me to ejaculate at last. The thighs astride my face seemed to be Marie's soft warm curves rather than our new wife's athletic muscles. Then again, I may be wrong as I was operating largely on instinct by then.

As coherent thought returned, I gathered my girls into my arms, kissed them both soundly, told them that I loved them both very much and promptly fell asleep. Now I know that isn't very gentlemanly but, in my defence, I was completely shagged out and there were two of them to deal with any remaining needs. In fact, when I apologised the following morning, they reassured me that they were both still so horny that they gave each other multiple orgasms while I dozed contentedly beside them. Apparently Angie even 'cleaned' me while I slept, both orally and with a warm sponge from the bathroom. She's a gem!

There were no shenanigans the next morning though, as we had an hour's drive to the airport to start our honeymoon. We made sure to eat lunch at the airport, as we were flying with a budget airline, not to save money, it was just easier than driving the extra distance to a major hub. After all, we'd only be in the air about ninety minutes.

The flight was quite dull really, apart from the teenager behind Angie repeatedly kicking the back of her seat. I started to get up to remonstrate but she put her hand on my arm. "Let me deal with this my way," she insisted. I settled back down, wishing that I'd brought popcorn.

She stood and leant over the suddenly rather alarmed brat to speak softly to his mother. "I'd never hit a child," she informed the startled woman, "And I won't make a scene while we're airborne. But, if you don't stop this little arsehole kicking my seat, once we've landed I'm going to fucking slap YOU senseless you useless cow, before the cabin doors are even opened."

Now, you know that we three are in our sixties, our early sixties I hasten to add, but you may also recall my references to Angie's wiry athleticism and my suspicion that softly spoken men with, shall we say, a 'military background' had tutored her in self defence, aka unarmed combat, due to her involvement with some classified government projects. I had long since suspected this, but the visit of another softly spoken man to vet us after Angie had agreed to marry us, settled the argument. If not a spook herself, she worked with them.

The relevance of this information is that when Angie snarled her threat at the brat's parents, it was entirely credible. I watched through the gap between the seats as the mother frantically insisted that her idiot offspring grew the fuck up and saved her from a good hiding. He did.

"That was so hot!" I whispered to her as she returned to her seat.

"It was practical," she replied in a low voice. "Men can't threaten women and children and, if you'd threatened his dad, it would just have turned into a dick swinging contest. My way, dad can't get involved and mumsie and her precious little angel know that I wasn't bluffing."

The rest of the flight was quite dull by comparison, though the teen grunted something that might have been an apology as he slouched past as we disembarked. Mother just looked relieved to have escaped un-slapped and dad looked quietly satisfied that mummy's little treasure had finally faced some consequences for being an arse.

A driver was waiting for us opposite the arrivals gate. Angie had set out some ground rules when we planned this trip at the outset. "Look, I have money and no-one else to spend it on. I can afford little luxuries from time to time so, when I want to indulge myself, I can. Now, you two have a decision to make; we can stay together in the hotel of my choice at my expense or you can find a cheaper place on your own to satisfy your consciences. But I am not spoiling a perfectly good honeymoon because the pair of you worry that you might be exploiting me. Frankly, it's hurtful that you'd think me that naive."

I understood. Angie could be socially inept but she was far from stupid. Marie had started to protest but I put my hand on her arm (I found that was the most effective was to hush her without inciting violence). "She's right, love," I told her. "We wouldn't think twice about spending our money on Angie, why can't we afford her the same consideration?"

"But she's spending so much!"

"And it's hers to spend as she chooses," I pointed out.

"Thank you, Geoff," Angie said. Then turning to Marie, "I've travelled solo since my last divorce and it's just not the same. If we're going somewhere together, why is it so wrong for me to use my money so that we can enjoy it to the full? It's what I want to do, so why do you insist on policing me?"

This was the closest that the three of us had come to a real falling-out in ages. I held my breath, and my peace, conscious that, in a triad, two people ganging up on the third could be felt as victimisation.

Marie is no idiot either though. Her posture relaxed. "I'm so sorry, Ange." She took her friend's hand - or should I say wife's hand. "I'm protective of you, that's all. I've seen you hurt and used before. I just cannot bear the thought of being one of those people who seems to be using you."

Angie's expression softened too. "I know, love. I do understand. But are we really going have this argument every damn time I want to do something fun?"

Marie looked at me. "It's her money," I reminded her. "Anyway; you're fine one to talk." She looked shocked. "It was all well and good for you to share me, your husband, with your friends," I continued, hoping this wasn't going to set her off. "You had something they didn't and, even at the risk of our relationship, you encouraged me to actually have sex with them. And that's okay? But Angie inviting us to stay in a nice hotel isn't?"

Angie and I waited with bated breath. Marie huffed. "You're right, of course, both of you," she finally admitted. "We'll never ask you for money sweetheart and we'll never take your generosity for granted but who am I to tell you how to spend your own money?"

Angie fixed her with a stare. "Is that the matter settled then?"

"Yes, love. It is."

And that's why we were clambering into a rather nice luxury town car as our transfer to our hotel. "Do we have plans this afternoon?" I asked as I gazed out of the window.

"Nothing set in stone," Marie said. "Even though the flight itself was quite short, all the transfer and airport stuff meant we weren't sure enough of when we'd get to the hotel and even if we'd feel like going straight out again."

"The hotel has a decent restaurant," Angie assured us with a look so innocent that it spelt trouble.

"The Hotel...?" I prompted for the name that she had thus far declined to share.

"You'll see soon enough," she smirked.

And so we did. The Hotel Paris Soir was an impressive modern building featuring lots of steel and glass but still somehow in keeping with the majestic brick buildings around it.

"How many stars?" I asked suspiciously as we waited in reception for the porters to collect our bags.

"Five," she grinned.

"I meant the restaurant's Michelin Stars."

"Oh. Only the one." She really was incorrigible.

The receptionist waited for us to finish "The key-cards for your suite monsieur, mesdames," she said in flawless English. Marie thanked the young woman in equally flawless French and turned to Angie. "Suite?"

"Is that a problem?" my junior wife fired back.

"Indeed it is not," I insisted as I led my senior wife towards the lifts. "It was a pleasant surprise, that's all. Is that not so, my adorable little fruit-bat?" I addressed that last bit to Marie, accompanied by a double helping of meaningful stare number seven.

I saw her begin to bristle at being called out, but she was big enough to catch herself. "I apologise if that sounded ungrateful," she told Angie. She sounded sincere. "I find that not only am I learning how to live as part of a married triad but my new wife is bringing a level of wealth into the relationship that affects the dynamic in ways that I hadn't considered."

"Again. Is that a problem?" Angie repeated.

"No. Not a problem. An adjustment. A change of perspective, if you like. Assumptions to re-calibrate perhaps, but a problem? No. Never."

The lift doors opened. We entered. "I don't want to be a problem," Angie said sadly as I pressed the button for the top floor.

"You aren't," I told her firmly. "Neither are you," I reassured Marie. "The three of us all have preconceptions about how things are or should be." Oh fuck! Had I any idea where this train of thought was heading? Manfully, I rode it out. "When you were just our special friend staying for the weekend, we had one set of assumptions. But now? Now that we have consciously joined our lives, we have to consider whether those original assumptions have any value any more."

I shook my head. "We went into this with three lifetimes of experience and our eyes wide open. That still doesn't mean we have all the answers. Angie. Marie adores you. As do I. Cut her some slack while she adjusts. Marie, you opened our marriage to Angela. Let her show her appreciation in her own way. This pushing back risks pushing her away. We know that isn't what you want. So stop doing it."

It wasn't often that I went all macho with Marie and, on those rare occasions that I did, about fifty percent ended in a blazing argument. I waited, uncertain how this exchange would be received. "I apologised once," Marie said. Oh. This didn't sound promising. "But I just did exactly the same thing." Phew. I might survive the evening. "I invited you to join us; I indulged your Star Wars fantasy, but it's always on my terms, isn't it? But when you want to do something nice for me, I baulk. I do have to stop, don't I?"

"I know it's from a good place, but yes. You do. You and Geoff are my safe place and one thing I know for certain is that you don't need to protect me from you. Please stop trying."

They hugged, tears in their eyes, the moisture in mine was due to the air-conditioning in the lift, and the matter was dropped, mainly.

Our suite was everything I expected and more. An elegantly furnished sitting room, two generous bedrooms, one with a large en-suite bathroom, a shared bathroom and a balcony overlooking La Place de l'Étoile with the Arc de Triomphe at its centre. I consciously avoided even wondering what this had cost Angie for our four night stay.

I did have one question. "Two bedrooms?"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "This suite had the best view."

"Of course."

I could tell that Marie was tamping down the urge to protest and I was proud of her when she turned to our new wife. "Angie darling. This is gorgeous. Thank you so much."

I did wonder if Angie had overstepped when she replied, "Thank you, Marie, for both the compliment and the self restraint." but the hug that followed was genuine and warm.

As residents, and suite occupants at that, we were able to snaffle a table in the restaurant at seven; an unearthly early time for a lot of Parisians to dine. I'm not going to descend into my usual food porn here, beyond commenting that the four courses were cooked and presented by true artists and it was three contented Brits who made their way back to their suite.

"Plans for tomorrow?" I asked as I sat and removed my shoes. I knew my girls well enough that we would have some sort of itinerary, even if we abandoned it part way through because we were distracted by something bright and shiny.

Angie answered. "We thought breakfast here and then stroll across to the Arc de Triomphe then down the Champs-Élysées to the Petit/Grand Palais. Relax in the Champs-Élysées Gardens and onto Place de la Concorde. Coffee and patisseries in the Tuileries Gardens and back through the Louvre concourse. Perhaps we'll save the actual galleries for another day. This is our honeymoon after all, not a marathon."

I visualised the route. "Will there be shops?" I asked suspiciously.

"A few," was all Marie was prepared to admit to.

"Will there be bars?" I persisted.

"As many as you want, dear," Angie replied.

I nodded, satisfied. This was a city-break for all of us. They could look at dresses, shoes and bags 'til the cows come home as long as there was a man-creche selling beer nearby for me to retreat to.

That evening, we retired early, partly because even short flights can be wearing simply because of all the arsing about between home and destination. We could have taken the Euro-star under the Channel Tunnel but that would have involved even more farting about getting to St Pancras Station in London. Anyway, I had my little chemical helpers, two lovely women and not a care in the world. An early night in those circumstances does not always mean early to sleep!

After a delightful breakfast the next day, three sexually satiated pensioners ambled their way to the Arc de Triomphe. It is massive and it is impressive. We strolled around and though the arch taking time to appreciate the intricate decoration. From there, we meandered along Angie's route. They went into some shops and I joined them most of the time. Once or twice I might have wandered into a nearby bar for a pastis or a beer.

In one dress shop, the girls asked if I would stay to give an opinion on some outfits they had seen in the window to wear to a fine dining restaurant we had reservations for. Why do I mention this? Because Angie called me into her changing cubicle to help with her zip. What she didn't mention is that it wasn't a cubicle, it was a changing room, where a young French woman was trying on a top, bra-less.

I turned away from her, mumbling my apologies. It says something that French women, particularly Parisiennes, actually have a facial expression that says, "So? You saw my tits? Big deal."

How did I see that face? When I turned towards a grinning Angie I saw the young woman's reflection in a full length mirror directly in front of me, boobs and all. Angie leant forward with a smile, "Enjoy your treat?" She turned, I pulled up her zip and left, whistling happily to myself.

As we walked, we checked out some of the smaller bistros just off the main street. Yes, we intended to enjoy the fine dining available in Paris, but the local cuisine interested us too. We spotted a couple of likely prospects and I rang the one that we all agreed appealed to us the most as we relaxed in the Tuileries Gardens. I booked a table for the three of us that evening.

We caught the Metro back to the hotel and lounged in our suite for an hour or so. We hadn't particularly exerted ourselves earlier, so we decided that the ten minute walk to the bistro would work up a bit more appetite.

It was just after we turned the corner onto Rue Balzac that we saw a young woman, obviously distressed, arguing with a taxi driver outside a scruffy hotel called the Fortuna. Marie saw red. Even at a distance it was apparent that he was demanding more money. "You said fifty Euros," the woman was protesting in English.

I hurried after my wife, the senior one, concerned that she might end up in jail. "What's the problem?" she enquired in extremely polite French as I reached the little tableau. I winced. That was not a good sign.

"This dumb bitch owes me two hundred Euros," the driver shouted.

The young woman looked confused. The conversation had been in such rapid French that I'd struggled to keep up translating for Angie. Marie turned to the passenger. "Where did he collect you?" she asked in English.

"Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport," the woman replied, on the verge of tears.

Marie let rip. Now, I'll be honest here, I've never met a Marseilles fish-wife but if I ever do, that was the type of language I'd expect her to use. To be fair to the guy, he probably hadn't had sex with every dog in his neighbourhood, and his mother almost certainly didn't do the things Marie accused her of with the entire PSG football squad, the coaching staff and the men who cleaned the toilets. What he did do, however, was to try to screw two hundred Euros out of an unsuspecting tourist for a journey costing maybe a quarter of that.

"My money," he protested weakly, possibly willing now to take the fare he had originally agreed.

"Fuck your money!" Marie yelled back. "Get the fuck out of here before I put a fucking brick through your fucking windscreen." She looked around for said brick. I helpfully pointed to an empty wine bottle in a doorway about twenty metres away. Marie's eyes lit up and his widened as he realised she wasn't bluffing. The smell of burning rubber as he took off was testament to his sudden urgent desire to be elsewhere.

Marie abandoned her search for ammunition and made her way back towards us. "Hello," I introduced myself to the woman. "I'm Geoffrey, this is Angie and this tigress with the foul mouth on her is Marie."

"Beth," she said, returning my handshake. "Are y'all Brits? 'Cos that conversation went right over my head."

"We are," I acknowledged. "It's just that my wife can swear in fluent French."

"Oh. Then I'll thank my good fortune you were passing. I was just about to pay the guy just to make him go away."

"He was just a chancer," I assured her. "You get a few in every big city. You were just unlucky."

"Where are you staying, dear," a now calm Marie enquired, having arrived, sans bottle.

"Well, that would be a long story," the woman said glumly.

"Would it help to know we're really good listeners?" Angie asked. "Even Geoff." She paused. "Have you eaten?"

"I got some chips in here." Beth indicated her backpack.

"For your evening meal?" said Angie in horror. "In Paris?"

"Uh, yeah?"

Angie looked helplessly at me. "Can you use your superpower, Geoff? Save her from herself?"

Beth looked blankly at me. "Some help here?"

I sighed. "Angie wants me to persuade you to join us for dinner tonight. Just there, actually." I pointed to the bistro entrance a little further along the road.

"And this superpower?"

"Those two seem convinced that I have some mystical ability to engage with women."

Angie snorted. "Mystical!"

Ignoring her, I continued. "Anyway. I do agree with her that it would be churlish of us to just walk away now, knowing that we would not enjoy our meals aware that you were out here alone, with nowhere to stay and only a bag of chips to sustain you."

Her shoulders slumped. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

"Not at all," I told her. "I'm sure you're a resourceful young woman. It's just that we're here and willing to help. Why turn us down?"

"And you have a long story to share," Angie added.

"Not helping, dear," Marie chided her.

Beth looked at each of us in turn. "If you're sure it'll be no trouble?"

"See! Fucking superpower," Angie laughed gleefully. "Oops! Sorry."

Forestalling any further hesitation, Marie held her hand out. The young woman looked mutely at it. Marie just smiled. Beth surrendered, took the offered hand and they turned to walk towards the restaurant together. I took Angie's hand and we followed, me collecting Beth's small rolling suitcase with my free hand

Le propriétaire was delighted to have an additional diner and a fourth chair and table setting were awaiting us as we took our seats. We decided to share a couple of bottles of wine between us, one red, one white, to be chosen by our host.

The menu was quite basic; three starters, three mains and three desserts to choose from. I went with mackerel, rabbit and an almond tart. This was proper country food; still delicious but simple, clean and beautifully cooked. My three companions seemed equally pleased with their selections.

We kept the conversation fairly innocuous as we ate. It was obvious that Beth's situation was, as our cousins across the pond might have it, sub-optimal. Delving too deeply into the reasons why was not the best way to appreciate a meal. Equally, we had no desire to overwhelm her with our own funny little ways. At least until the poor lass had finished eating.

At last, the plates were cleared away and four cups of decadently aromatic coffee were placed in front of us. "So Beth," Angie began. "You said it was a long story. If you're ready to share, we'll listen; if not, we'll understand." Sometimes she surprises me. She says that she thinks she may be on the spectrum. I know different. She just hates meaningless conventions that get in the way of honesty.

Beth considered for a moment, then decided. "I was supposed to be getting married this weekend." I waited for Angie to butt in. Bless her, she didn't. Beth gazed at the froth on her coffee. "Coupla days ago I was going into the city with Traci, my Maid of Honour, to buy some last few things for my honeymoon." She looked up at us. "Here, in Paris, the city of love, with my new husband." She distractedly stirred her coffee, her thoughts a thousand miles from where we sat.

"Traci noticed what shoes I was wearing. Would they match the outfits I was looking for? I'd stayed at her apartment the previous night, after my bachelorette party. We decided to swing by my place to pick up some heels." Her voice was dull as we sat, silently anticipating where this was going. "We let ourselves in quietly so as not to wake him because he'd just worked a late shift. Yup, he was still in bed. But with her. Fucking her. My sister."

Well that took an even darker turn than we were expecting. The poor girl was heartbroken but, even though her eyes glistened, her voice stayed strong. Beth was a tough young woman.

"Traci saw too and dragged me out before I shot him with his own fucking gun. They never even noticed we were there. We went back to her place and I cancelled everything. We lost deposits, but what could I do? Traci was a star. We made lists, I moved money, closed accounts, cleared bills and cancelled utilities. She rang him to say I wouldn't be home anytime soon because I was still hung over. Then, when he went to work, we sneaked in, packed my bags and took all my documents. I decided that if I wasn't seeing Paris with him, then I'd damn well see it without him. She dropped me at the airport and, well, here I am," She gave a sad wry smile. "single, homeless, jobless and in a strange foreign city where I apparently can't even be trusted to find a cab."

"What about your parents, sweetheart?" Marie asked. "Are they still alive?"

"For all the use they are," Beth retorted. "I called them from the airport. Told them what their whore of a golden child had done. Mom said she didn't believe me. Dad said I probably misunderstood." She glared around the table. "How the fuck do you misunderstand seeing your little sister bouncing up and down on your fiance's dick?"

She took a moment to compose herself. "I told them I was done; done being the victim; done always being the guilty party; done being the only one to apologise; done always being the one who was sacrificed to keep the family intact."

Angie frowned. "You said jobless. Why?"

"I live in small town near a small city. Everyone knows everyone else. I'm an ER nurse and my fiance, ex I suppose now, is a cop. Guess how often cops attend ER?"

"So you quit?" Marie guessed.

"I did, and I told them why."

What will you do when you have to go back?" Angie asked.

"Traci was thinking of moving to Canada. I joked about going with her. Turns out the joke's on me," Beth replied bitterly. "Because now it's a serious option."

At every turn, this poor young woman's life had turned to shit, betrayed by her fiance, her sister and her parents. Her misery tugged at me but it wasn't my place to step in.

Angie had no such reservations. "Stay with us," she suggested. "We have a spare room."

"I just met y'all," she pointed out.

"Would it help to know that the room is in a reputable hotel? This is an invitation, not an extremely civilised abduction."

Beth managed a brave smile at that. "But why?"

"Because we can," Marie supplied. "We know we can't help everyone in need. There are too many and most of their problems are too complex for simplistic solutions. But you're here. You're alone and with nowhere to stay. We can't fix all of your problems, but giving you a safe place to stay is something easily within our reach."

"But I can't impose-"

"You aren't," Angie interrupted. "And there's Geoff to consider too." The younger woman looked baffled. "Geoff's superpower is also his weakness," Angie explained. "While he relates to women, that also means that seeing a woman in distress tears him apart. If we let you walk out of that door, alone, into a strange city, without even offering you shelter, he'd never forgive us."

Beth looked me for confirmation. "True in theory," I admitted. "But I know them both well enough to know it would never be put to the test."

"I have a question," she said. We waited. "You've all been very careful while we've chatted over our meals, but you haven't given much away. Who are you? To each other, I mean."

"We just got married," Angie announced, obviously tamping down her excitement a little, under the circumstances.

"Who did though?" Beth persisted

"Oh, of course. Well Geoff and Marie have been married forever and since I've been sleeping with them both for months they asked me to marry them too. Do you want to see some of our wedding photos?"

"So, you're both married to Geoffrey?" The young woman clarified, bypassing the invitation.

"We're all married to each other," Marie corrected her gently. "We're a triad, rather than a man with two wives."

"A throuple, if you prefer," Angie added, cheerfully ignoring her wife's glare.

"So, like an open marriage?"

"Well, yes and no," Marie replied. "Our relationship with each other is as real to us as your view of a traditional marriage, but there is an element of an open relationship too."

I watched with interest as Marie realised her answer only begged further explanation. She took a deep breath. "We have a small group of friends-"

"Small!" Angie chuckled under her breath.

"We have a group of women friends," Marie battled on valiantly. "Who for a number of reasons were missing intimacy from their lives. I was the fortunate one who had Geoffrey. After a lot of soul searching, I persuaded him that I was willing to share, and now he and I, and Angie have agreed that we may sleep with anyone in that group."

Beth was fascinated. "You said a small group, but Angie laughed and you corrected yourself. How small?" She caught herself. "Oh! Sorry. That probably overstepped a line. It's none of my business."

"Twelve," Angie supplied. "That's how many women he's had sex with since last October. There's Marie, obviously, then me, Lucy, Kate, her daughter Sam, Jo, Megan, Margie, Sue, Wendy, Jane and Jess." She counted them out on her fingers and looked anxiously at our wife. "Did I miss anyone?"

"No dear. That was a very comprehensive list," Marie conceded.

I noticed Beth regarding me carefully. "Just since last October?" she said.

"Guilty as charged," I admitted cheerfully. "But, before you judge me too harshly, remember these two slept with most of them as well. And they do naughty things with Ken, and Charles."

"Let's circle back to Ken and Charles later. All of those women and now you're offering me a bed too?"

"A room," Angie corrected her. "We're staying in a lovely hotel suite. it has two bedrooms and obviously we're only using one-"

"Well, obviously," Beth interrupted drily.

"Exactly," Angie continued artlessly. "So the other one is just going to waste. Why not offer it to someone who needs it?"

"You do realise why a person, who only recently almost got ripped off by a crooked cab driver in a foreign city, might be a little bit wary of accepting your very kind offer?"

"Yes," said Marie.

"No," said Angie.

It seemed that my vote would be the tie-breaker. "Of course we understand why you might be wary. You ought to be. You've only just met us, but here we are offering you a place to stay. On the other hand, I'll happily let you send my photo to your friend Traci as a guarantee that we're being genuine with you."

"Really?" she asked, doubtfully.

"Why not? And if you want to join us on our trips around the city, that would be great, and we'd be okay posing for photos with you."

"You seem like a decent bunch," she mused. "But so did Glenn. And he turned out to be a piece of shit."

"He didn't have these two to keep him in line," I pointed out.

Beth was quiet as she finished her coffee. We left her to her thoughts as we discussed the next day's itinerary. The girls wanted to visit the Palace of Versailles and I had no objections. We decided that although a taxi or Uber might be more convenient in some respects, our hotel location meant that we might spend most of the journey travelling at walking pace because of traffic. A quick internet search suggested that the train, specifically the RER C, was probably far quicker than going by car. And so it was decided.

I signalled the waiter for our bill and Angie graciously allowed me to pay. Beth reached for her pack. I stopped her. "Whatever you decide about your accommodation tonight, you were our guest here for dinner. Please don't offend us by refusing that hospitality at least."

She nodded in thanks and leant back. "I have one question before i decide." We waited. "Are there any conditions attached? Expectations?"

"None," Marie replied emphatically. "We understand that you might see our lifestyle as odd, but every encounter is one hundred percent consensual."

"Unless we ask otherwise in advance."

"Not helping there, Angie," Marie snapped back.

Angie just grinned in response and gave Beth a meaningful wink. The younger woman blushed a delightful shade of pink. "Okay. I'm in. You guys are just too weird to be dangerous."

We trooped out and strolled back to our hotel. This time Angie linking arms with our new friend while I held hands with Marie. We heard the conversation from the couple in front of us clearly enough.

"So how come you found yourself engaged to an arsehole?" enquired my junior wife. Marie and I sighed in unison and stayed silent.

"I guess 'cos he was, you know, a man's man. Good looking, ripped, cool job, strong, decisive. My dad thought he was great. Drank the right beer, shouted for the right football team. Glenn was like the son he always wanted."

"Is that why he dismissed your betrayal so readily?"

"Probably. Glenn would just say that I saw sis was there and got hysterical and imagined the rest." She shook her head. "Dad probably wouldn't care anyway. After all, to guys like them pussy is just pussy."

"You said that he was in the police. Will he try to track you? If he claims that you stole or embezzled those refunds you got, he might be able to use police resources to find you."

"Never thought of that," Beth confessed. "Shit! That man did like the last word in every argument."

"Well, you're safe for now because people can come and go to our suite without registering at reception. You're a visitor, not a guest. The only other way he could track you is through your credit card. So try not to use it until you have to."

"But-"

"Trust me," Angie broke in. "I have the makings of a plan." Marie and I exchanged a worried glance. What was she plotting?

We decided to give the hotel bar a miss and went straight up to our suite. As the hostess, Angie showed Beth her room and left her to settle in.

"What are you up to, Angie?" My other wife asked suspiciously when she rejoined us.

"Well, I thought it might be fun to adopt Beth as our companion. Then she could travel with us without leaving any obvious leads as to where she is, but maybe where she's been. She can check with her friend to see how the ex is reacting. It's likely that he won't but, if he is one of those obsessive alpha types, he might react badly to being dumped so close to his wedding day. Some men just can't handle that sort of humiliation.

"Once we get home, she could stay at my place while she finds a job in Canada, if that's what she wants, of course."

"Thank you Angie for at least figuring that I might want a say in this," said a voice from Beth's doorway. "I'm starting to realise that's quite a novel feeling."

"I see patterns," Angie replied. "I've taught a lot of students and so has Marie. We've seen other young women just like you. Girls following a plan that their parents have mapped out for them. Girls falling into relationships with men just like their fathers simply because they feel that man is the best they can do."

Marie nodded in agreement. "You didn't actually have sex until after you were eighteen," she predicted. "You had a couple of boyfriends but they were as inexperienced as you were. Then you met Glenn. He was forceful and confident, bragging about how great he was in bed. You believed him because you knew no better but now you are starting to wonder if he was just selfish."

Beth stood, stunned, as they related her life story. "That's too damn close for comfort."

Angie picked up the baton. "So rather than just expect that you'll do as we say, I have a proposition for you. You probably got the gist anyway. You hang out with us, on your terms, while you decide where your future lies. Then tell us what you want to do, and we'll do what we can to make it happen. Deal?"

"Why? Why would you do that? You've only just met me."

"Because we can. Because it would make us happy. Because you deserve someone else on your side apart from your friend Traci. Because we can afford it."

I refrained from pointing out that it was actually Angie who could afford it. We had already explored her feelings on that issue.

We waited for the young American's answer. "If you're sure?"

"We are," my girls responded, almost as one.

"And you Geoff?" she asked. "You haven't said much."

"The choice has to be yours. From a purely personal perspective, I'd love to have you join us." I saw Angie smirk over Beth's shoulder. I ignored her and carried on. "You'll be safe with us and we'll try to make it fun for you too."

She took a deep breath. Bugger! I 'noticed' her boobs move. Damn Angie. Her smutty look when i talked about Beth 'joining' us made me look at the girl differently. Surely Angie couldn't be planning to... At least Marie wasn't... Yes she was. They both had that look. I should have realised when they dissected her previous lovers' lack of experience. If not actually teeing the girl up, they were at least laying the groundwork. I kept my feelings to myself though. Beth wasn't the issue, that was those two nutcases.

"I'm in."

The smiles that greeted her decision were all genuine. The smiles of those two miscreants though were far more smug than mine.

Beth's decision made, we made ourselves comfortable in the sitting room while Angie explained her strategy and then they fleshed out the details. Beth would contact her friend to garner any intelligence on Glenn's mental state, reactions and whereabouts. She would be able to say, in all honesty, that she didn't know exactly where Beth was. Just that she was somewhere in Europe. If Glenn, or any of Beth's family, started asking very pointed questions, we'd know that he was trying to locate her. Angie also checked Beth's phone for tracking software, declaring it clear, and also adding a couple of apps like CityMapper, WhatsApp and What Three Words, explaining how they could come in useful.

Angie's relaxed attitude to local ordinances about 'visitors' supposedly having to show ID to stay with us in our suite played in our favour too. Beth was effectively in the wind. We were travelling to Versailles on the train the following day. Marie suggested that the girl withdraw some spending money from a bank in Versailles before returning to our hotel. The French police were hardly going to trawl through hours of CCTV recordings for some Illinois patrolman trying to track down a woman accused of emptying a joint bank account.

My wives also commented on Beth's limited wardrobe. I foresaw another shopping trip in my immediate future.

They quizzed her about her interests. What might she want to see? Her answer was simple. "Anything." It turned out that she wasn't interested in clubbing, which suited us, and just wanted to be in a different place. We all understood, each in our own way. She was overwhelmed and wanted to be distracted. We had all been there at least once in our lives and could empathise.

When the conversation reached a natural break, Beth excused herself, saying that it had been an eventful day and she needed her bed. Angie demanded a hug first, and a smiling young woman obliged her, then Marie and then me. "Goodnight, and thank you," she said to us all. "I needed space. I acted on instinct and it could have gotten me into trouble. You stepped up when you saw I needed help. I won't forget that." She walked to her room and closed the door.

"She didn't lock the door," Angie said quietly.

"Well it's not like any of us would barge in," I pointed out reasonably.

"But it shows that she trusts us, Geoff." Marie had understood Angie's point. "She feels safe." I felt good about that.

Versailles was magnificent. The whole day was a joy really. Beth did surprise me when she admitted that she'd never ridden on a train before. I, well all of us, took it for granted that the train was just another option when travelling from A to B. She had gazed out of the window as the cityscape morphed onto the French countryside. "It's odd," she said, almost to herself. "This seems familiar yet strange at the same time." We sat back and let her enjoy the journey without a commentary.

As for the palace, it left her speechless. I have to hand it to the French, when it comes to chateaux, they are top rank and Versailles is in a league of its own. It is simply spectacularly gorgeous. Can you tell I'm a fan?

We'd ended our guided tour and found a quiet arbour in the gardens. Marie and Angie had wandered off to bicker about whether a particular planting scheme could work in our garden at home, leaving me to keep our guest company. She seemed distracted.

"Why not call your friend?" I suggested. "It's morning back in Illinois."

"Will it be safe?" she asked.

"Let's not overthink your ex's intention or ability to stalk you. Even if he was so inclined, that would take a lot of effort. Call Traci. Even tell her where you are now if you want. Just don't mention our hotel. And if you don't mention Paris either, we could be staying anywhere within a fifty kilometre radius."

She looked doubtful but went to make the call anyway. After all, she had paid for an eSim, she might as well use it. I saw her face light up when her friend answered; she chatted excitedly for a few minutes then her expression changed. She trudged back towards me, eyes downcast. I stood and pulled her gently into a hug. She stiffened for a moment and then relaxed into me. Her shoulders shook; I said nothing. Platitudes were not what she needed, neither was an interrogation, she just needed someone to hold her.

As the tears subsided, a muffled voice came from my chest. "Traci is hearing the stories they are spreading about me. I ran because I'm pregnant with another man's child. She called my parents to say she was with me and saw my sister with Glenn, but they cut her off. Told her it was sinful to bear false witness and hung up. They didn't even ask where I was or if I was safe." Her voice broke. "They didn't amount to much, but they were all I had." She buried her head again.

That's how my wives found us. It speaks to the love between us that neither one assumed that her state was due to anything that I had done or said. "She called her friend," I explained. "Apparently her family has bought the lie that she's fled in shame, pregnant with her lover's baby."

We waited as Beth composed herself. "At least now I know," she growled. "They can come looking for me wanting a fucking kidney, and I'll laugh in their faces. And as for that bitch of a sister: I hope he knocks her up. They deserve each other." She wiped her eyes, stepped out of our embrace and looked around. "So? What's next?" I said she was tough.

My wives decided that what Beth needed was some serious shopping. I counter bid with a café au lait. We compromised on them shopping while I entertained myself however I wanted. Angie had found a couple of promising looking places on Rue de la Paroisse so off we set.

There was a cafe nearby that seemed okay so I settled there, pointing to a nearby ATM and suggesting that Beth could withdraw some spending money and check her balances. I told them to text when they were finished shopping and I'd order whatever they wanted.

I was there a little over an hour and two drinks in when they emerged. My girls looked content; Beth looked bemused. "We've spoken to the reservations desk at Les Deux Freres and they agreed to include an extra diner at our table," Angie told me excitedly as they sat down. "So Beth needed a nice dress, some shoes, and a purse. That's what we would call a bag," she added helpfully. "And some day clothes for the rest of our time in Paris. We can pick up other bits and pieces another time."

"You look as though you probably need a beer more than that coffee," I commented to Beth.

"It was like shopping for my prom dress, but more intense," she confessed.

"They mean well but don't let them push you too far," I warned her. "You're the one who has to wear the outfit. If it's too revealing or anything, just say so."

"I think that I needed a different perspective," she replied. "It's easier for guys. You just put on clean pants and a smart jacket and you're just peachy. It's way more complicated for women. It's like we're competing non-stop and, over here, I don't even know the rules."

"Like Wendy," Marie reminded me.

"There are parallels," I agreed. Beth looked confused. "A single mum we met through our grandson," I explained. "Her daughter was growing into a fine young woman, obviously destined to leave for university and Wendy's ex-husband had destroyed her self-confidence. From time to time we'll go on a date just to reassure her that her social skills are nowhere near as bad as she thought."

"Wendy," Beth mused. "Wasn't she on Angie's list? Are you counting sex as a social skill?"

"Her husband was a tit," Angie contributed. "He couldn't find a clitoris with a SatNav, a magnifying glass and a torch. Wendy was scared of dating again because she was convinced she was useless in bed. She wasn't though, was she Geoff?"

"This is what I have to put up with," I grumbled to Beth. "No privacy, no filters. And no, Angie, Wendy was far from useless in bed. In fact, as you well know, she is a passionate and enthusiastic lover. It was just that no-one had ever told her that."

"And I though the English were reserved," Beth muttered as she picked up her cup.

By the time we got back to our hotel, via a few more shops, her mood had improved. Yes, she was hurt by her family's attitude, but it seemed to confirm her belief that she would always be the fall-guy, never the victim in their minds. I think that realisation set her free.

We chilled, chatted and decided to eat out again, this time at a brasserie only a few doors down from where we first met Beth. Marie made the bookings and we set about getting ready. I was last in the queue to use the shower in our en suite so I was in the sitting room when Beth emerged from the shared bathroom wearing only a towel.

In my defence, I didn't look up until she spoke. "Not getting ready yet, Geoff?" she asked.

I turned to face her. It was a struggle to maintain eye contact, what with her only wearing a towel. "As you pointed out," I reminded her. "It's easier for guys. I can shower, shave and dress before your hair is dry."

"Use 'my' bathroom if you want," she called over her shoulder as she walked away. I'm sure the wiggle in her bum was far more pronounced than usual. "Sing out if you need your back scrubbing," she added before closing her door.

Wondering exactly what that was supposed to mean, I fetched a clean towel and did as she suggested, apart from the back-scrub.

I was dried, dressed and watching the news when three visions emerged. Marie had gone low, a plunging neckline revealing the tops of her generously endowed breasts. Angie had gone high, showing more leg than usual, and with legs like hers, that was a splendid sight. And Beth? Apparently, the day clothes they had chosen together included a sheer top through which her pale blue bra could clearly be seen. In fact, even the bra was so thin that, if you stared, you could convince yourself you would see nipples. I tried not to stare.

The tee and jeans that she'd habitually worn thus far were replaced by a skirt almost as short as Angie's and her legs were almost as slender. I tried to suppress any lustful thoughts.

I stood. "Ladies. You all look stunning." It was true. Their make-up was understated but highlighted their features, and Angie and Marie had obviously introduced Beth to one of their funny little ways. They occasionally shared perfume. They claimed that, although it had a slightly different scent depending on who was wearing it, at least this way two, or in this case three, perfumes weren't fighting for superiority. All three were wearing a perfume I didn't recognise. Deep, heady, tones reminiscent of dark chocolate and vanilla? Or was it caramel or was it just a sweet floral note?

"New perfume?" I hazarded.

"Well noticed," Marie complimented my observational skills. "You deserve a prize for that." And she planted a tender kiss on my lips. Angie followed suit. Beth hesitated and then stepped up.

I put my hand on her shoulder. "I warned you about this pair. Do not let them manipulate you into crossing your own boundaries."

She looked me in the eye. "Yes you did, no they aren't and no I'm not." And, before I could make sense of her words, she too kissed me on the lips.

She stepped back, gave a satisfied smile and turned to her mischievous mates. "You were right. That was fun. Shall we go now?"

I opened the door and ushered the giggling trio out. I could bemoan this awful fate but, quite frankly, I had nothing to complain about. Three delightful women had just kissed me and, after a lovely meal, we're going to stroll back through a beautiful city to a stunning suite and two of them are going to fuck my brains out. Oh! poor little Geoffrey. Did the naughty ladies tease him?

Tonight it was Beth walking beside me holding hands. "You okay?" I asked quietly. "I know that call upset you."

"It did. More than it should have," she replied. "Because that's how they are. Dad works for a lumber company. Mom works in a school. We're nothing special. But for all that, appearances matter more to them than I do. They know fine well I was telling the truth about Glenn and that slut, Tammy. She's always been spoiled but that was shitty, even for her. They knew, but it would be bad if they acknowledged the truth so, to save their reputation, I was supposed to suck it up; get over it; marry that cheating asshole and make nice with the whore."

"So what now?"

"Live in the moment; plan for the future." She squeezed my hand. "I could be in a lot worse situation; no?"

"You could," I agreed. "Angie's offer is genuine. You'll have a place to stay if you can get a visa to visit the UK."

"She means a lot to you, doesn't she?"

"She does. She was there for Marie when we lost the baby she was carrying. I did what I could to be supportive, but Angie filled gaps that I simply didn't know were there." My voice may have broken as I recalled that period in our lives. "And she's been there for her ever since. To be fair, Marie returned the favour when Angie's marriages imploded. The thing is, I admire her so much. Her intellect, her wit, her compassion. Some people find her directness rude. I find it refreshing."

"So you invited her to be your third?"

"Technically, that was Marie. I was fine with it you understand. But something had happened with Marie and me, and it changed a lot of our assumptions. That's when Marie decided that me sleeping with her friends was not just acceptable but desirable. She realised I would never leave her for any of them, so why not? And Angie was there at the beginning. Somehow the combination of their existing emotional link and our new shared physical intimacy just made this relationship seem inevitable."

"And your wedding?"

"Did Angie show you the photographs?" I asked. Beth shook her head. "Ask her. I think you'be amazed and impressed with our choice of aesthetic.

"There's always something that you never quite say, isn't there Geoff?"

"I have no idea what you mean," I responded, feigning a hurt expression.

We walked without speaking for another minute. Beth broke the silence. "Did you like it when I kissed you?"

"I did."

"Did it surprise you?"

"A little," I confessed. "I imagine Marie suggested it."

"I'm having to rethink some of my own assumptions at the moment," she said, ignoring my comment.

"I can see that you might," I agreed.

"Where do you get your moral standards from, Geoff? You, Marie and Angie? You're sleeping with a dozen women but you seem more moral than my church-going parents and my law enforcement ex."

"Ah! Philosophy, another Parisian pastime" I said. I thought for a moment. "As a scientist, I'm wary of unproven absolutes. So, to me, right and wrong comes down to whether my actions are going to hurt another person and, if someone might get hurt, would they deserve it?"

Beth frowned. "That last bit sounds rather convenient."

"If I may defend my position?" She nodded. "I have had sex with Lucy. She is married. To most people, cheating is morally wrong. To Christians, it breaks the seventh commandment. Were we wrong to have sex?"

Beth considered. "I want to say yes, but I'm figuring there's a 'but' coming along anytime soon."

"But... her husband already had a woman on the side, he mentally and verbally abused Lucy. He called her old and unattractive. He was, and remains, a twat. Was I wrong to sleep with her then? She was happy, I certainly was happy, even Marie was pleased that her friend came to realise that HE was the problem, not her. The only person to suffer was Eddie when she decided to divorce him, largely because she'd got her self confidence back. Was my decision moral?" I shrugged. "I've explained my reasoning and you can decide for yourself whether you approve or not, but I will not repent this apparent sin."

"My dad would have called you a sinner in church, and slapped you on the back and bought you a beer in the bar," she grinned.

"Exactly."

"So are you going to ask? You know? If I approve."

"I already know. You wouldn't be here if you didn't."

The brasserie owner sat us at a circular table, Marie to my fight, Angie to my left and Beth opposite me. "Do you like Beth's new outfit?" Angie asked. "It's very French, Isn't it?" Marie watched with amusement at our wife's teasing.

I decided to play along. I studied the young woman. she looked to be in her mid-twenties. She was about five feet six with light brown hair, blue eyes and a roundish face with lips that turned readily into a smile. Angie was correct. The sheer top and lacy bra beneath were extremely French in both their elegance and panache. Sitting opposite her, under instruction to critique her clothing, I had time to look closely and determined that I could certainly see the shape of her breasts, and very nice too they seemed.

"You look lovely," I told her sincerely, deciding that specific boob-related commentary might be a step too far.

"You were absolutely right," Beth told Marie. "When he looked, it was as though he saw me, not just these." She used her hands to jiggle her breasts. I thought that I was going to swallow my tongue, but outwardly stayed calm.

Like most men, boobs fascinate me but they don't define how I view their owner. Some loud mouthed woman with big boobs, yelling at her kids in the supermarket does nothing for me, where a sweet natured flat chested lass might be worth a second peep.

"If you need a hand doing that while you're eating," I offered. "You only have to ask."

"Careful Beth," Angie warned. "If you play with fire, you might get burnt."

The girl regarded me thoughtfully. "If Marie and Angie said it was okay, you'd actually sleep with me, wouldn't you?"

"I'm fine with it," Angie interjected.

"As soon as you're both ready," Marie added.

"What? Just like that?" the American asked.

"What did you expect?" I teed Angie up. "The Spanish Inquisition?"

Angie picked it up. "Ha! No-one expects-"

"Oh, for pity's sake you two," Marie broke in. "Sleep with the girl if you want, but spare her your Monty Python routines."

Beth looked baffled. With hindsight, I had to admit to myself that the family background she'd described was not the typical demographic for surreal British TV humour. To me, it just meant that she had that treat still to come.

Our food arrived and we dropped that topic. I'm sure that there are a few awful places to eat in Paris, just like most cities but, if a place is popular with the locals, it's a fair bet that the food will be decent. That proved to be the case again.

"There are restaurants like this at home," Beth complained. "But we never ate there. My folks reckoned that fancy French food wasn't for the likes of us."

"But here," I pointed out. "Fancy French food is simply home cooking and it's the American franchises that are exotic."

"We'll agree to differ on your definition of exotic," she moaned around a mouthful of mussels in white wine and cream. Okay, she had a point.

"So if all of this is so alien, why pick France for your honeymoon?" Marie asked.

"Well, I used my savings, with some help from mom and dad, for the wedding. My cheapskate fiance offered to pay for the honeymoon." The young woman grimaced at the memory. "He was originally intending to spring for a long weekend in New York, but I pointed out the difference in what we were both spending..." She paused for a sip of wine. "So he begrudgingly arranged a week in Paris, flying in on the cheapest flights he could find. When I arrived on my own, I gave the driver the name of the only hotel I knew, which is how you came to find me arguing with a cab driver in front of one of the shittiest hotels in the city."

Any reply was interrupted by the sound of an incoming text. We ignored it and went back to our meals. Between courses, Beth excused herself to make a call. The message had been from Traci. "U free 2 talk?" she'd asked.

Beth returned, sporting a wry grin. "That girl is a star!" she told us. Traci's report had been comprehensive. Apparently an officer on Glenn's shift had attended ER with two men injured in a bar fight. Knowing Traci was a friend of Beth's, he'd asked who 'the guy' was. Traci had played innocent. 'What guy?' He meant Beth's non-existent lover. The guy who got her pregnant. But why would Glenn think the baby wasn't his? she'd asked. That thought had not occurred to him.

He changed the subject. Glenn had decided not to cancel his vacation. "Too tight to lose his deposit," Beth said smugly, looking at the dump across the street.

And apparently Traci's mom was also gathering intelligence on her behalf. A friend of hers from church had heard Beth's mom saying that Tammy was going away for a few days to get over her sister's appalling behaviour.

"He's bringing the slut here in my place," she predicted. We all gazed at the scruffy hotel across from us. The thought cheered us all enormously.

"We need another plan," Angie announced.

"Because?" Marie asked

"Because I think it would be neat to post a picture of them booking into that dump somewhere on social media."

"My sister does spend a lot of time on Instagram," Beth mused. "But how would we do that?"

"Well, that's why we need a plan," Angie retorted impatiently. "When was your original flight due to arrive?" And so, over dinner, as we walked back to our hotel and at other odd moments over the next couple of days, a plan emerged.

Beth was a great addition to our little group. It was refreshing to see Paris through her eyes. We did everything, even stuff we had done on previous visits as a couple, or solo in Angie's case. We looked over the city from the top of its famous tower and battled other tourists for a glimpse of an otherwise unremarkable painting behind a bulletproof glass screen in The Louvre.

"It's way smaller than I expected," our new friend commented as we left the Mona Lisa behind.

"We can ask Lucy to explain the mystique," I suggested. "She's the artist. Personally I prefer her work."

"Well you would, wouldn't you?" Marie pointed out. "You're in most of it."

Beth looked confused again. It happened a lot recently, when people met us for the first time. "I tend to appear as a turquoise streak in Lucy's latest paintings," I explained. Beth nodded sagely, as if that made some sort of sense. I think she was starting to get the hang of talking to us.

We cruised the Seine, visited Notre Dame and, as a special treat for me, my girls had booked a table at The Crazy Horse Cabaret. It was, and this time Beth agreed with me, truly exotic. "It's a different world, isn't it?" She said as we emerged into the evening. "It's like we've been to a very civilised strip club."

"I'm sure that you have burlesque shows in your big cities," Marie pointed out. "Aren't they similar?"

"I have no idea," Beth replied. "But some of those girls might as well have been naked." I kept quiet as we walked, trying to get my brain to commit my favourite images from the show into long term memory.

"We'd probably best get Geoff straight back to the hotel," Angie suggested. "He's looking a bit tight around the trousers, if you get my drift." The two other women looked pointedly at my groin.

"I've got earplugs," Beth sighed. "They help a little."

"You could always..." Marie let the offer go unspoken.

"Thanks Marie, but I'm not there, yet," she replied. In fairness we tried to keep the noise down, but she was still a little bit grumpy the next morning.

The evening before Beth's faithless ex and her treacherous sister were due to arrive, we dined at Les Deux Freres, a restaurant with three Michelin stars. Angie had set out the rules before we even began to get ready. "Yes, this place is expensive, but I want to eat there and I want it to be with friends. I don't give a shit about the cost, it is about sharing an experience with people who matter to me. Please don't spoil it by worrying about the prices."

I understood. Angie had money. That money allowed her to do things that she wanted to do, but only alone until now. I hugged my newest wife. "Understood, Angie. This is your gift to us. Thank you." I kissed her and stepped away.

Marie took my place. She looked her wife in the eye. "If this is important to you my love, it's important to me. Whatever residual indebtedness I'm feeling, I'll make up for in bed. Will that do?" Before Angie could answer, Marie pulled her into a slow, tender kiss.

"To be honest, babe," Angie responded, after she got her breath back. "Bearing in mind the number of orgasms you've both given me these last few months, it's probably me that's in debt to you."

Before we could start one of our convoluted debates about the exchange rate between orgasms and Great British Pounds, Beth intervened. "But what have I given you to deserve this Angie?" she asked, softly.

"Perspective, sweetheart," my new wife replied. "Seeing Paris again through your eyes has been like seeing it for the first time myself."

That seemed to satisfy the younger woman as she too kissed Angie on the lips. Marie and I watched the pair as the kiss deepened, Beth moaning as Angie's right hand cupped her cheek and her left pulled the girl's body closer. I waited for Beth's response as they separated. Would it be revulsion at having kissed another woman?

It wasn't. "I think I get it now," she told us, still breathing heavily. "It isn't about sex, what you three do, it's about being there, with a person you care about, in the moment. Yes, that closeness makes sex a possibility, but it's the intimacy that matters, the sex is almost incidental."

I turned to Marie. "See? If you had explained it like that at the beginning, I might not have grumbled so much."

Angie tapped her wrist meaningfully. There was hair to be coiffured, makeup to be applied, haut-couture to be slipped carefully into. She had a forgiving nature but being late that evening would test it to the limit. Worry not, dear reader; when the town car arrived to collect us, we were already waiting in reception.

The drive took only a few minutes, but my three companions were wearing shoes designed for red carpets rather than the mean streets of Paris, even if the street in question was the Avenue des Champs-Élysées.

We assembled on the pavement outside Les Deux Freres. The frontage itself said that this was somewhere exclusive. There was no glowing neon signage, no menu displayed in the windows and certainly no price list. Like many of the stores on The Champs-Élysées, if you were concerned about prices, they were more than you could afford. They were certainly more than I could afford. But Angie wanted to eat here, and with people she cared about, so really, that was all that mattered.

A large suited gentleman at the door asked whose name our reservation was in. On receiving the correct answer, he smiled politely and ushered us inside. Conversation didn't stop when we entered. This place was no stranger to beautiful women, or older men with beautiful young women, or older women with beautiful young men or any other permutation for that matter. Money can forgive a a lot of deviation from social conventions. In short, as odd as our lifestyle may seem to many, in there we were really nothing special at all.

We were seated with great ceremony, Marie on my right, Angie to my left and Beth facing me once again. That night, I wasn't confronted by her lacy bra, largely because she couldn't possibly be wearing one. The plunging back and skimpy front of her midnight blue gown were barely enough to conceal her nips, let alone any underwear.

Marie had gone with a burgundy creation, slightly more discreetly scalloped from neck to navel so that only about a third of her boobage was exposed. Mind you, a third of a lot is still quite substantial.

Angie had chosen a forest green creation although the fabric covering her small boobs was sufficiently clingy to show that she too had eschewed a bra. Angie's gown was slit to her hip causing me to wonder, and not for the first time since we'd known each other, whether she was wearing any underwear at all. When I'd mentioned this back at the hotel, she had just smirked. Worryingly, so had Marie and Beth, leading me to wonder if I was the only one of our little group who was actually wearing underpants.

I've tried and failed a dozen times to write an adequate description of that meal for you. The thing is, it wasn't a meal. It was an experience. It was beautiful, delicious and, and this is where I know I'm going to sound pretentious, it was witty. The food was actually bloody entertaining.

I'm not going to dissect the entire menu but take the scallops served on a local boudin noir (a blood sausage) as an example. The look of the dish was amazing, but it was the pea shoots in a spicy cayenne vinaigrette with a sweet almond chutney served alongside that raised the dish to a different level. And every course was like that.

And, as before, Angie insisted on paired wines for each course. Not the most expensive wines on the list, but wines selected by the sommellier and the head chef to complement the food. I buy some decent wines if they are on offer when we go shopping, but these guys truly knew their craft.

About halfway through the meal, I noticed a chap at a nearby table glance across. I thought that I recognised him but that made no sense. I pushed the thought to one side as the next course arrived.

It was only a little while later that Angie murmured, "Someone has an admirer." I didn't pay much attention; I mean, it was hardly likely to be me. Yes, my wives make sure I don't commit fashion crimes in public, particularly on evenings like that, but come on!

"I said that dress would get you noticed," Marie grinned at Beth, who shifted uncomfortably.

"I'd turn and wave at whoever it is," the lass hissed in reply. "Only my tits might swing out and wave at him too."

I followed Marie's gaze. It hit me. "Julien Dubois," I said quietly.

"Who's he when he's at home?" asked Angie

"He plays for Stade français Paris," I explained. "Rugby player. I saw him play for France against Wales in the Six Nations last year."

"So a celebrity in these parts then?" Angie asked.

"I'd imagine so."

That seemed to exhaust the topic so we changed the subject. We were enjoying our coffee when he passed our table as he left with another couple of guys, team mates, I assumed from their build.

"Did you play?" He asked, in French.

"I did, but not at your level Monsieur Dubois."I replied in the same language.

"Your accent? English no?" He switched languages effortlessly.

"Yes." I thought I should really make introductions. "Monsieur Dubois this is my wife, Marie, my wife, Angie and this is Beth."

He wound up the Gallic charm to eleven as he bent to kiss her hand. "Not his wife too then, mademoiselle?"

"No," Beth smiled back graciously, retrieving her hand. "His girlfriend."

I'll give the lad his due, he recovered quickly and seemed as determined off the field as he was on. "Perhaps, mademoiselle, you and I might-"

"Thank you, but no. I'm happy with my sex life as it is." She shut down the unasked question.

In life, as in rugby, sometime a play works out and other times the ball gets booted into touch. Like the pro he was, he knew his pass had been intercepted so it was time to move on. He wished us farewell and left.

"Twat!" Angie muttered under her breath. Well, loud enough for us to hear, and possibly the couple at the next table.

Beth looked uncomfortable. ""I'm sorry-"

Marie was having none of it. "No!" she said sternly. "You are dressed perfectly appropriately for the occasion. You introduced yourself as Geoff's girlfriend. What he said from that point on was down to him, not you."

"The thing is, Marie," Angie contributed. "He said what he did because it works. Not every time, obviously, but probably enough to make it worthwhile trying."

"But what about afterwards. What about Geoff?" Marie protested.

"You mean like when my boyfriend fucked my sister?" Beth contributed. "They don't care. That guy, Julien?" She looked at me for confirmation. I nodded. She carried on. "He didn't try to pull me out of my chair. He offered. He's rich, he's ripped and he's famous. It was up to me if a fuck with him was worth losing what I have now with you. I did the math. He'd dump me in a heartbeat. I'd rather be with you three."

"But..." Marie was still seething.

"But nothing, babe." Angie tried to break through. "Some women just go for men like that."

"Yes," Beth agreed. "Women like me. But trust me. It's curable." And, with that, the episode was over. Julien was dismissed and we went back to our conversation.

There was a minor quibble when Angie tried to slip me her platinum card to settle the bill. I refused to accept it, pointing out that I had just enjoyed a once in a lifetime dining experience as her guest. As a secure male, I was okay with her being seen to pay for it. In any case, I pointed out, even in France, Angela, the name on her card, is not a guy's name.

Angie called for our ride and he was there in no time. We left, thanking the front of house staff and praising the creativity of the kitchen team. Even the view from pavement outside still maintained a magical quality. The city sparkled and hummed quietly in the background that mild May evening. Angie summed it up best. "Fuck, but these shoes are crippling me!" The other two agreed before limping as gracefully as they could towards the opened car door. I may have said this before, I know that I've thought it before; women are wonderful creatures but sometimes they do seem to be inexplicably determined to make their own lives far more difficult than needs be.

"I can't wait to get mine off either, Ange," my senior wife grumbled.

"Geoff?" Beth spoke as the car pulled smoothly into the light evening traffic.

"Yes Beth?"

"That guy, back there, Julian."

"Julien," I corrected her pronunciation.

"Whatever. If I'd accepted his invitation. What would you have done? Would you have interfered?"

"Interfered? No. I might have pointed out that he was just your ex with a sexier accent. But if that was what you wanted, who am I to stand in your way?"

"And if he'd hit on Marie instead?"

"It doesn't bear thinking about," I replied honestly. "Remember that taxi driver?" Yes. My senior wife was not shy about sharing her views on feminism. M. Dubois would not have enjoyed the experience.

"But if he had, and she had left with him?" Beth persisted. "Given your open lifestyle?"

My brain struggled with the concept, locked into a feedback loop. How would I react to an event that was impossible? There could be no reaction if the event cannot happen, but if it did...

Marie saved me. "IF that had happened," she told our American friend. "Geoff would have accepted my right to self-determination and said nothing. Because he has slept with so many of my friends, he would consider that as justification enough, however much it hurt him, for me abandoning him for a night with another man. Of course," she added in a conversational tone. "I'd have had to divorce them both as soon as we got home. I wouldn't be able to look him in the face ever again and Angela's wrath would have been biblical." Angie confirmed our wife's assessment.

Marie gazed fondly at me. "This is the problem, you see? When I taught, there were plenty of colleagues who made it clear they were available for a bit of meaningless sex. I didn't reject them for Geoff's sake. I did it for mine. Because if the sex is so meaningless, why risk losing something irreplaceable for something so trivial?"

"Glenn did. So did my sister."

"Hubris," Marie explained. "They couldn't possibly get caught... until they inevitably were. "She leant to take Beth's hand. "Now dear. About you calling yourself our husband's girlfriend..." The three of them dissolved into giggles and I smiled to myself, knowing that the night was due to get even better.

We behave with perfect decorum, all the way to our suite. Once there though, Angie placed herself in front of me. I grinned, knowing that while she usually deferred to our other half - third? - mischief always took precedence. "Unzip me," she demanded.

I did, and my suspicions proved well founded. "So. You can afford to treat us to a three star restaurant but you can't afford knickers?"

"I can afford them," she corrected me. "I just prefer not to wear them under tight gowns."

Marie coughed politely. "My turn now."

Angie stepped out of the silky fabric pooled around her feet. I unzipped wife number one, who was also economising on underwear. She went to stand with her equally naked pal, both trying, and failing miserably, to look innocent.

I don't understand men who claim to have a 'type'. I mean, my two could hardly be more different. A lanky, flat chested nerd and a busty, short-arsed linguist. Yet I loved and desired them both, each in their own way.

Some sign was exchanged and, suddenly, Beth was in front of me. Wordlessly she too turned her back towards me. This time it was a small clip behind her neck that held the whole creation up. She turned to face me hands cupping the now loosened fabric to her breasts.

"Your wives said this was okay with them," she reminded me. "But is this okay with you too, Geoff?" She let the dress go. I tried not to stare. No. That was a lie. I made no effort at all. The girl had chosen to bare herself, body and soul, to us. I owed it to her to look. At least, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

It was surreal in a way. It was as though the universe had taken my two favourite women and produced a hybrid, only one a few decades younger. Taller than Marie, more fulsome than Angie, Beth was, like them, perfectly proportioned though, as I previously indicated, my preferences are generally eclectic rather than demanding.

She smiled at my obvious appreciation; the look on my face, I mean, rather than the stirring in my trousers. "Will I do?" she asked, showing her first signs of hesitancy.

I understood. She was vulnerable. Her fiance had bedded her sister. Was it because Beth was somehow flawed? Certainly not to my mind. Her features were fresh and open; her smile was a delight; her skin was flawless. I knew in that moment that her ex was an idiot.

"You are spectacular," I assured her. "Are you sure about this?" She bit her lip adorably. Okay, I admit it, everything she did was adorable to me. I was smitten.

"Marie and Angie pretty much nailed my sexual history," she confessed. "They said that you would show me what it feels like to be treated like a lover rather than a sex worker." She looked up at me. "If that's true, then I'm sure."

I looked at my girls. "You take Beth's room," Marie suggested. "Then, when you're ready, you can join Angie and me in there; both of you, if you want." She nodded to the door of the master bedroom. I smiled to myself, that happened a lot recently. Marie intended to show her appreciation for Angie's generosity. Lucky Angie!

I suppose in some bodice-ripper, I would have scooped my latest conquest up and carried her bodily into her chamber, probably knocking her unconscious on the door frame in the process. I figured that it would be simpler just to lead her by the hand which had the additional benefit of not leaving my back crippled.

We, all four, stopped at the doors to our respective rooms, waved, turned and went inside.

Once in her room, Beth seemed more uncertain. I wasn't too surprised, after all, this wasn't like any date she'd been on before. "Undress me," I suggested. "After all, I had to undress you."

"You undid one snap!" she fired back. "And I wasn't even wearing a bra or panties."

I shrugged. "I don't make the rules up."

"You literally most certainly just did," she protested, quite accurately. But my silliness broke the tension and she began to unbutton my shirt. She rubbed the flat of her hand against the skin of my belly, moving up to my chest. "You keep yourself fit, Geoff. So do your wives."

I reciprocated, with my hand mirroring her movements until I was gently stroking a breast. "We realised that we still have a lot to live for," I murmured, stooping to kiss a gorgeous pink nipple. "We decided that looking after our bodies was the first step."

She moaned softly. "You're so gentle. Other guys just seem to want to maul my tits."

"Oh. I will too, when you tell me to. And you will," I told her confidently.

She searched my face for a clue. "I will?"

"Within the hour," I predicted.

Her hands moved to my belt as I slipped my shirt off. Seconds later I was removing shoes, socks and trousers. Be honest, are there many sights more ludicrous than a man naked but for his socks?

Beth stared at the bulge in my tight trunk-style undies. "You really do find me attractive."

"Very," I agreed, and tilted her head up for a kiss. Slowly her hands looped around my neck. Mine mischievously sought her pert little bum cheeks and pulled her closer. We kissed like that for longer than I expected. Again, her previous lovers had been either inexperienced young men or a selfish twat. For all my multitude of faults, I was neither of those. She was in no rush, so we had time to explore each other's little foibles. My little foible (not that little) was pressed up against Beth's belly. She didn't seem offended.

I finally led her to the bed. As she sat, I discarded the underwear. Now we were both naked. "Nice," she commented approvingly. "Big enough, but not scary."

"I'll admit that I've done a lot of stuff to women in my bed, some of it even a bit weird," I told her. "But I've never knowingly scared any one of them. I've teased, tormented, even spanked, but I've never set out to scare."

"And me?" she asked.

"You and I are going on a journey," I whispered. "We're going to find out what really turns Beth on."

"Good," she replied, pulling me to her. "Where do we start?"

We started, where we had left off, kissing, though horizontally this time, with my hands gently caressing her naked breasts; still gently though. We kept that up for a full five minutes before I slid my right hand, the naughty one, down over her belly towards the junction of her thighs. She drew in a breath and held it in anticipation as I played with the little strip of hair pointing like an arrow towards paradise.

I kept searching, questing deeper. Her breath released. "So good," she whispered between kisses. I said nothing; just exploring her special little place and noting her response. I could feel her arousal ramping up until it was time.

I moved my kisses down her neck and throat, not biting, just suckling, until I reached her breasts. I tarried a while there, savouring the taste of the beads of sweat starting to emerge. I moved on.

When I kissed her under-boobs, she moaned. When I carried on even further south, she froze. "Geoff? What are you...? Ohhhh!" I nuzzled the tiny patch of hair on her mound, my fingers now invading her entrance. "Geoff. I haven't..."

I knew she'd showered before we set out, just as I knew she'd had no time to prepare since we returned. I didn't care. I shifted position to get comfortable between her thighs and bent forward. She melted at the first touch of my tongue. I lapped from her pucker to her clit and l rejoiced at the sound she made. "No-one has ever done..."

He voice trailed off as I retraced my steps. Her hands found my head, not forcing me down but definitely not pushing me away. I rolled my tongue into a point and pressed between her folds, replacing my fingers. Her body bucked involuntarily. I moved up to her clit, still gently, she wasn't quite there yet.

As I continued, he breathing changed, shorter louder breaths: the hands on my head guiding me now; urgent. "Please, Goddammit don't you fucking dare stop. I'll do anything you want, just please don't stop."

I didn't stop. I couldn't. I had this wonderful young woman on the brink of an orgasm and nothing would persuade me to deny her that finish. What I did do, though, was to massage her clitoris with one thumb while the other stroked the entrance to her bum. My tongue continued its assault on her vagina until she blew. Her back arched and she cried out, "Yessss!"

Once the spasm had passed, I straightened and pressed the tip of my cock to her entrance. She gazed mindlessly up at me as I pushed forwards. The sensation of the swollen tip of my cock pushing her inner walls apart registered on her consciousness. "Oh, my God," she breathed.

I eased out a little and pressed again, her vagina lubricating me to aid this invasion. Once more and we were fully mated. Slowly at first, we began to fuck. I assumed that her previous lovers were all, for their own reasons, just pump and dump merchants, but I was enjoying this too much to rush so I let Beth's responses dictate our pace.

We kissed as we moved together. I smiled to myself as I bent to a breast and she urged me to bite her nipple harder. As I had predicted, in her arousal demanding that I mauled her boobs harder. Indeed, it didn't take long before she was grasping her own breasts adding that stimulation to my oral and penile contributions.

I think she may have had another gentle orgasm from the breast-play but soon it was apparent that a big one was building: her movements became more urgent yet uncoordinated. Her demands reduced to single syllables. "There! Hard! Yes! Wait! Now!" I looked down at a body glistening with sweat, her previously coiffured hair now a mane tangled by lust. She was magnificent.

She locked her thighs around me as if to bind us together permanently and pressed our loins together mercilessly.

I knew that I was close and prayed that I could get her over that final hill before she defeated me. I managed, but only barely. It was her own pulsing inner muscles that did me in. Afterwards, Beth told me that the sensation of my semen actually shooting inside her triggered yet another wave of pleasure. Regardless, I was done and all that I could do was not crush her as I collapsed, spent.

We lay like that until my shrinking cock slipped out followed by a trickle of out combined fluids. Nether of us cared. We shifted, me on my back, Beth with one arm and one leg across me, bashfulness a thing of the past now.

"Geoff?"

"Yes?"

"What you did? That thing? With your tongue?"

"Yes?"

"Why? Guys don't like to do it, do they?" I waited, suspecting that she still had more to say. "Those other guys, before, they said that the idea gave them the ick." I shuddered at the phrase. "And Glenn just refused. Said it was gay."

Like I said. The man's an idiot; making a woman orgasm is gay? That train of thought was interrupted by a gentle tap on the door. "Beth? Is it safe to come in?" Marie's voice.

Beth looked up at me and then down meaningfully at our nakedness. I shook my head to say that it wasn't important anymore. "Come in," I called. She squeaked in protest and hugged me harder. Suited me!.

The door opened slowly to admit a naked Marie followed by a similarly dressed Angie, both flushed from their own lovemaking. "Good, isn't he?" Angie commented, looking down fondly at us.

"Don't be shy," Marie reassured the young American. "We've both seen him in bed with lots of women. It's not a problem."

"And not just in bed," Angie added, grinning.

Recovering, Beth gave me a calculating look. "No? Let's add that to the one or two other topics that might be worth circling back to. Wasn't there two guys? Chuck and Kev?"

"Charles and Ken," Marie corrected her. "We can chat about them over breakfast. Now," she clapped her hands together. "Now that you've taken that first step, do you want to come and join us all in the big bed?"

Once again Beth seemed uncertain. "Same rules," I promised. "Nothing happens without consent. But," I added. "If you enjoyed oral sex from me, apparently Marie is even better. Do you really want to miss out on that?"

"And I need to practice," Angie pointed out.

"All of us?" Beth confirmed.

"All of us. You, Marie, Angie and me. Touch any one of us anywhere you want. We'll follow your lead and respect any boundary you set."

"You touched my asshole," she reminded me.

"I did. Shall I stop or do it again? Your call."

"I guess it felt good so, again?"

"Wise choice," I complimented her. "A safe place to test your limits."

My girls led her to the en-suite to freshen up whilst I was relegated to the shared bathroom. I took one of my chemical helpers and then brushed my teeth and cleaned my 'special little places' before joining them in the master bedroom. I stared in awe at the sight as I entered. Three lovely women, all naked and unashamed waiting on our bed. I crossed the room and pulled each one in turn up and into my arms for a lusty, if tender, kiss. Each responded in kind.

Then Marie turned to Beth and kissed her likewise. The young woman seemed to hesitate before surrendering. Angie and I saw no point in standing idly by and so locked lips ourselves. We broke off first, Angie gently pulling Beth from Marie's embrace to explore the girl's tongue herself. Marie and I renewed our own relationship. "Geoff?" she said softly.

"I know," I told her. "Keep something in the tank for you later. Our little ritual after you've been with another woman."

"But not Angie," she reminded me. "She's part of us now. Just after the other girls, and now Beth."

Surprisingly, it was Angie who pulled Beth onto the bed with her; Angie's hands exploring her breasts. Without shame now, Beth responded, her own hands exploring another woman's body in an intimate setting for the first time. Obviously, as a nurse, bare skin was not new to her, but this was something very different. I stepped back and urged Marie to join them. "Soon," I answered her unspoken question.

I watched them, fascinated by the generosity with which they sought to pleasure each other. Marie and Beth seemed to have Angie on the brink. "Fuck her for us," Marie demanded, so I did while the other two continued to torment her. She came within a couple of minutes.

"I've never been this close to another couple having sex." Beth confessed.

"This time last year, neither had we," my first wife agreed.

"It's primal and beautiful at the same time, isn't it?"

"It is. I wish I could have seen your first orgasm with Geoffrey though. When you realised how a lover that cares for you can make you feel."

In reply, Beth leant across to kiss Marie and another coupling began. I lay cuddling with Angie. "Love you babe," she said, snuggling into me.

"Love you too Angie," I replied.

We lay and watched the others as they touched and suckled. Inevitably, they ended up with Marie's head between our new friend's thighs. "Time to do your husbandly duty," Angie noted, pointing to Marie's exposed fundament.

It was and she groaned in appreciation as I slid inside. She was so wet that I was buried within two strokes. I paced myself. Beth was close to cumming and I didn't want to interfere with that. Having already shot one load that evening, even with my tablets, I was able to hold off my own eruption until Beth and then Marie peaked.

I collapsed yet again. This time on top of a wife. Angie intervened. "Attend to Beth. I'l hold Marie."

That's how the four of us dozed. Around midnight I woke and used the bathroom. As quiet as I was, three heads watched lazily as I made my way back. Beth stretched her arms out. "Marie says that I have to ride you now."

"Does she indeed?"

"We both do," my wives confirmed in unison.

I settled into bed to find that they had decided that Angie should do her party trick, not literally, we don't have that sort of party, or not yet anyway. So where was I? Oh, yes. Angie knelt next to me and fed my already stiffening cock into her mouth. As in, she inhaled it. I felt her tongue massaging the root.

"Fuck! Angie!" I stammered as she pulled off with a smug smirk. I was fully erect and about as hard as I can remember. Just to make a point, she did it again; you could actually see a swelling in her throat.

"Fuuuuuck," Beth breathed. "Angie, that's fucking awesome."

"Think he's ready for you now," wife number two preened herself.

"No need for foreplay," wife number one counselled. "Just straddle him and do whatever works for you. Trust me, if it feels good to you, it'll feel good for Geoffrey."

The youngster nodded and straddled my hips, facing towards me. I appreciated the gesture. Now, I'm not campaigning against reverse cowgirl or anything, it's just that having both hands free and a pair of boobs to fondle is always a welcome bonus during sexual congress.

And fondle I did, as Beth slid her vulva gently back and forth along my cock. I watched again for her tell; a red flush spreading down her chest. I smiled as the other two hooligans encouraged her to, as they so charmingly put it, "Just shove it in."

She was slightly more delicate than that, but the end result was the same: she was astride me with my almost painfully erect penis about as deep as it was possible to get inside her. And it felt incredible. Let me summarise. I was in bed, with two women that I love deeply and yet, with their enthusiastic encouragement, a third beautiful woman less than half my age had embedded me deep inside her vagina and was now experimenting with all the permutations available to her to make her cum.

And while she rotated, squirmed and bounced on my hips, my hands were totally free. At first, i was gentle in my boob caressing. As her movements intensified, so too did my touches. She settled on grinding urgently back and forth. Again, I did as I'd predicted earlier and literally mauled her tits. Yes, tits. The sheer physicality of the moment meant that we were beyond the use of breasts and boobs; they were nice playful words. Now we were in the realm of fucking, where my dick was in her cunt and she was fucking me for all she was worth. I tried to play my part too, my hips moving in counterpoint to hers. Even Angie and Marie participated, with Marie strumming Beth's clit while Angie playfully (so I discovered later) shoved a finger up her bum.

Beth started to flag, her own level of arousal itself interfering with her rhythm. I compensated by thrusting harder until she stiffened and just locked in place. We, the three of us, maintained our pace until she threw her head back and moaned as she came down from her release. This time it was Beth who collapsed on top of me. I was okay with that.

"How?" came a muffled voice from the region of my chest some time later.

"How what, dear?" Marie asked affectionately.

"How is it that I have had more memorable orgasms in one night with you three than in all my previous relationships?"

"Because Marie and I, as women, understand your body, and Geoff gets as much pleasure from his journey with you as he does in arriving at his own destination," Angie explained, then going on to show off her grasp of American sexual vernacular. "I'll bet that all your ex wanted to do was bust a nut in you, roll over and go to sleep."

Beth sighed. "It wasn't unusual for me to go and finish myself off in the bathroom."

"Speaking of which," Angie interjected. "My lord and master has yet to come." So saying she gently but firmly pushed Beth aside and into Marie's embrace, mounting me and penetrating herself almost in a single movement. She allowed me to play with her boobs but slapped my hand away from her clit. This was her wifely gift to me, possibly influenced by her submissive side. Eschewing her own pleasure, she gave a satisfied smile as she felt my seed erupt inside her.

"Love you, Angie," I told her, knowing that Marie didn't mind.

"Love you too, babe," she answered bending to kiss me.

Neither Marie nor Beth said anything as they slept contentedly in each other's arms.

"Just you and me then, kid," I growled to Angie in my best film-noir accent.

"Just you, babe," she said apologetically. "Need my beauty sleep. We have a scheme to enact tomorrow." So saying, she kissed my cheek, snuggled in and was asleep in seconds. I was maybe two minutes behind her.

There was no time for sex the following morning. Correction: I had no time for sex the following morning, though I think I heard giggles, whispering and 'squishy' sounds as I dozed contentedly. If they needed the intervention of a penis, they knew where I was. Actually, if there were goings on going on, as it were, I still don't know what, or who, was involved. I turned over and left them to it.

As I said, by the time I surfaced, I needed to shower, shave and otherwise prepare for our breakfast cum planning meeting. Over coffee, croissants and pains chocolat, we strategised and assigned duties. Marie and Angie would be our forward observation post, sitting at a cafe table opposite that scruffy hotel. Beth and I would be in central command, aka our suite. Marie suggested that we take the opportunity to have sex while we waited, just to remind Beth what a wanker her ex was.

Anyway the plan was this. Once the incoming flight that Beth was originally supposed to be on landed, as established through the wonders of the internet, my wives would set off for the front line in good time to capture the miscreants arriving. We figured that disembarking, baggage collection, immigration and customs could take between an optimistic thirty minutes to an hour or more. The taxi transfer could take anything from thirty to ninety minutes. That meant they could arrive, at best, an hour after wheels-down or, more likely, some time in the following hour and a half.

Angie summed up one issue very succinctly. "If we're drinking coffee for that long, I'll be pissing like a horse long before they show up." She decided to stick to non-caffeinated drinks.

Back to the plan. We all had cell-phones. Marie and Angie would link to the cafe's WiFi and then open a video call including my phone, leaving Beth's free for the payback. They would covertly video the hotel entrance so that Beth would be able to witness the pair arrive, if indeed her sister has assumed her place in Glenn's affections, and... Well, that was another issue.

You see, the scheme lacked a clear outcome. One option was to confirm that Glenn was a manslut and sis was a whore and then just walk away. Beth found that... unsatisfactory. Another option was to video them and just post the evidence to pretty much everyone who knew them; their pastor, their families, the police chief, even that weird guy that stood on the street corner shouting at clouds. We felt that could invite a retaliation of sorts.

Beth listened to us bicker good-naturedly about the risks and benefits of each option. "I've decided," she announced through a mouthful of flaky pastry, refusing to say any more.

Angie checked the flight progress on her phone; the only reason we'd have a phone at the table. "They are taxiing to the arrivals gate now," she read. "We can set off in an hour or leave now and walk very slowly."

"Past some shops?" I hazarded.

"Maybe," she conceded.

Marie looked to me for my input. "Go ahead," I said. "You two don't need me to escort you through Paris. Get some girl time in."

Angie snorted. "Yeah. We need more girl time."

"With clothes on," I amended.

"And us?" Beth asked.

"We could circle back to Ken and Charles if you'd like." I gave her my best salacious wink. "Afterwards..."

She got the implication and blushed adorably. Yes! I know! I keep saying how adorable she was. If I could post a picture you'd agree with me, so just deal with it.

We all returned to the suite, though my wives only stayed long enough to use the loo and grab their bags before they cleared off, seduced by the siren songs of the expensive boutiques along the boulevard.

"And us?" Beth repeated her question, this time with a wry smile. It was... Oh! For fucks sake! Right, okay? I'll stop saying it.

"Last night, in bed, you said that, and I quote, if I didn't stop, you'd do ANYTHING." I paused. "So? Did I stop?"

"You did not," she confirmed.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, as a woman of my word, I have to do whatever you ask me to."

And that's why forty minutes later, she was face down on our bed while I pumped another few millilitres of semen into her.

"You feel different in that position," she remarked as she idly massaged my cock in our post coital cuddle. "When you turned me over I did wonder if you were going to use my asshole."

"No. That's too big a step for a silly game of consequences. Have you actually done that before?"

"Glenn tried once, but I tensed up and it was too uncomfortable for both of us."

"I'm not surprised, it takes patience, care and lots of lube."

"Yeah. Like Glenn had those in spades," she said sarcastically. A thought occurred to her. "Shouldn't we be getting up soon?"

"Why?"

"To get ready."

"Ready, how exactly, and what for?"

"Well, Marie and Angie will be in position soon. They'll be calling."

"So?"

"Are you being deliberately obtuse, or were you going to answer their video-call, naked in bed with me here next to you?"

"Yes. The latter," I clarified.

She stared at me, trying to figure out if I was joking. "You're serious?"

I shrugged. "Why not? It was Marie who suggested we have sex. She and Angie went shopping. Everybody's happy, so why worry?"

Beth flopped back on the pillow. "You make it sound so obvious when it isn't at all."

"It is," I argued. "You are just using your old set of rules in a situation where they simply don't apply. The only 'rules' we'd be breaking are those that we've rejected as being nobody's business but ours. If YOU would be more comfortable with clothes on, feel free. If you ask me to put clothes on too, then I will. But here and now, there's no real need to. Hence my question. Why bother?"

We didn't. Instead we lay, contentedly naked in each other's arms, while I regaled her with my girls' mischief with Ken, our favourite taxi driver. "You put his wife on a video call while Marie and her friends tantalised him?" she giggled in disbelief.

"Indeed I did," I confirmed. "And, according to her, he was so horny that they ended up having sex on the stairs when he got home. Never made it to the bedroom." I chuckled to myself. "And we have an open invitation to do the same again if the opportunity presents itself."

"And Charles?"

My mirth subsided. "Ah. Well Charles is a different story. His wife, Megan, is one of Marie's friend group, only a little older than us but he is quite a bit older still. Mentally, he's fine but age has taken its toll so..."

Beth deduced where this was going. "So Marie offered your services as a proxy."

I nodded. "She did. But I had one condition. Charles had to approve."

Beth turned to face me. "That must have been a difficult conversation," she said sympathetically.

"It was," I agreed. "I believed Megan when she told us that her husband had suggested that she took a lover, but I already knew Charles from my rugby days. I could not face the thought of seeing him socially or, worse still, accepting his hospitality, knowing that I was fucking his wife behind his back."

"But you said Marie and Angie..."

"Charles can still appreciate female beauty and enjoy the sensation of skin on skin. If my girls want to provide that, who am I to object? After all, Megan and I go much further."

An idea started to assemble itself at the back of my mind. I parked it while it matured, and changed the subject, a little at least. "One other upside of our adventures is that Lucy, my sex toy, left her cheating husband and now lives with Megan and Charles. It seemed that Megan had a bit of a girl crush on her and as Charles had effectively opened their marriage, they were able to explore that relationship more physically. I think the Lucy shares their bed quite frequently of late."

I felt Beth's eyes boring into me. "There's so much to unpack in that last statement that I barely know where to start."

I tried to help. "Remember me telling you? Lucy's husband, Eddie, was behaving like an arse, justifying it by blaming Lucy for having, and I quote, 'A wrinkly old twat.' She doesn't. Her twat is delightful." Beth laughed. "Anyway. A friend of mine found out that Eddie's 'darts nights' were nothing of the kind. Apparently he had a girlfriend."

"Bastard!"

"Indeed. So Megan offered to help with Lucy's divorce and also gave her a place to stay. Lucy attributes this change of fortune to my own insignificant efforts, despite my protests, and declared herself my free-use sex toy." I glanced down at my latest lover. "And when Lucy commits, she commits. I may do literally anything I want to her whenever and wherever I wish. If she was here now I could tell her to masturbate me until I ejaculated onto your breasts and then she would lick them clean."

"And she would?"

"Absolutely, whilst berating me for a lack of imagination. She literally wants me to push my self-imposed boundaries even further."

"Jesus!" Beth breathed, obviously appalled at what depths that might plumb. Honestly? I shared her discomfort.

As we lay there contemplating a Geoffrey who had turned to the dark side, my phone chimed. I answered on speaker. Angie's voice came through. "All hands on deck. Prepare for action. This is not a drill. Target in sight." God, but you had to love that woman.

She hung up and I waited to receive an invitation to join a video call. It arrived and I accepted it while Beth reached for her own phone. Marie's face appeared on screen. "Oh good. You two look comfy. Now I don't feel nearly as guilty about how much I spent on the way here."

She returned my wave hello and turned her camera towards the street. We saw a man and a woman standing on the pavement as a taxi driver took their cases from the boot (or trunk as Beth insisted it was called). "That's them!" she spat. "The asshole and his slut."

She moved onto phase two and hit the 'dial' button on her contacts list. I sat, waiting to find out how far she had decided to go. I heard her phone's ringtone next to me and watched as the woman on my phone screen scrabbled in her shoulder bag. The woman said something to her companion and they both laughed.

"Laugh at this, bitch," Beth growled. Her voice changed then. "Hi, sis," she trilled cheerfully as the woman accepted the call. "Where are you?"

"Chicago," came the lie over Beth's speaker. "I couldn't stay at home after those things you said about me and Glenn. He was devastated. He's gone away too."

"Yes," Beth agreed, "To the Fortuna Hotel on Rue Balzac. But Tammy. That's in Paris, not Chicago. Look up and to your right. The sign's just there. Did you somehow get on the wrong flight by mistake?

Instinctively the woman looked up. As Beth had predicted the sign was just there. We saw the penny drop. Tammy looked frantically around for any sign of her sister. Glenn realised something was amiss and grabbed her shoulder. "What is it?" we saw him mouth. Tammy raised her phone, still looking around.

"Well," said Beth, clearly enjoying the moment. "This is a pickle. The woman who definitely didn't fuck my fiance is caught on video booking into a sordid little Paris hotel with exactly that man. Oh deary me, sis. What will momma and poppa say when their little angel gets outed as the whore she is?"

"You can't prove anything," came the truculent reply.

"Did you miss the bit where I said 'caught on video?' Now where shall I post it? On the church notices page? On my social media? Where do you suggest, Tammy?"

"I know you," her sister replied. "You wouldn't dare."

"You fucked my fiance!" Beth yelled across the ether. "Did it never occur to either of you that I might just be pissed enough to ruin your lives the way you ruined mine?"

"But Beth, it was only sex."

Beth grinned across at me. "Shit, Tammy. We both fucked him. You know as well as I do that it was barely even sex. He just uses women the way other guys use their hands. Did you have to finish yourself off afterwards like I did?"

Tammy didn't reply. Beth's voice turned serious. "I'm pissed. Seriously pissed at both of you. Do one thing though and I'll let it drop. Glenn? I can see you listening." We saw him scanning the street again for cameras. "Forget you ever met me and don't try to find me, or your mom and the rest of her church ladies will see what a low-life piece of shit you truly are. Tammy? I really don't give a crap what half truths and lies you have to tell mom but, if I've not had an apology from her by the end of the month for believing that shit you fed her about me being pregnant, then she and dad will see what a slut their darling baby girl has turned in to."

We watched as the feeds from Marie and Angie showed the couple arguing across the street. Glenn grabbed the phone. "How the fuck are you watching?"

"That's it? You fuck my sister in our bed and all you have to say is how come I can see you? No attempt at an excuse? No apology? Just how? Well, fuck you Glenn. Do you accept my terms or not?"

"Why would I care where the fuck you are?" he said dismissively.

She bristled. I put my hand on her arm, this was, after all, the point. "Tammy?" she said. "You in or...?" The consequences went unsaid.

"I'll talk to her," the younger woman conceded reluctantly.

"You do that. Anywhoo. My boyfriend's got hard again so I think I've wasted enough time on you two losers so you can both go fuck yourselves while he fucks me." She stabbed at the close-call icon.

"Perfect," Marie congratulated Beth from her vantage point at the cafe.

"Spot on, babe," Agreed Angie. "They're still arguing now."

"They're going to be really upset in a minute then," said Marie as her camera wobbled. She was obviously getting up to return to our hotel. "Because about an hour ago a very attractive French lady, me, called in to the hotel and cancelled their reservation. it's too much to hope that their room will have gone already, but the scope of your reach to do mischief should keep them guessing."

We watched as Angie, playing the part of the retired English tourist, used her camera to follow the sorry pair as, still arguing, they made their way up the steps to the lobby.

Angie offered one final suggestion before she closed the call. "We'll take our time strolling back while you two knock out a quicky and then I'll treat us all to lunch." Why pass up an offer like that?

Our remaining two days in Paris were far less eventful. Angie's itinerary suited all of us. We saw every major attraction on our combined must-see list and still found time to walk the quieter streets hand in hand in whatever combination suited us in that moment. In the evenings, we paired off equally randomly though I always made sure that my wives needs were attended to.

On the day of departure, we took a brief taxi ride to the central station for the TGV to Barcelona. The bullet train journey admittedly took about seven hours, but went from city centre to city centre without all that farting around that airports seem to invariably require; the seats were more comfortable; the scenery was better; and there was food, decent food, available on board.

We sat, read or just gazed out of the window (that was mainly Beth) and generally just chilled. "Do none of you go to church? Like ever?" Beth asked distractedly as we zipped through a forest.

"Not unless it's a social obligation," I answered, getting in before Angie could dissect all observances in her own inimitable, if brutal, fashion. "Weddings, funerals and the like." I thought how to phrase my own beliefs without offending a friend brought up in a religious household. "It's like this: I can't disprove the existence of a god, any god, any more than I disprove the existence of unicorns. What I can take issue with is a man, a human just like me, who claims to know the will of a deity that he, in his next breath, also claims is beyond our comprehension. So it isn't so much that God is the issue, rather than men who use God's will, as interpreted by them, to further their own agendas. So going to church seems pointless, unless it's just to admire the architecture."

"That's deep," Beth replied.

"Not really," I countered. "There are supposedly something like four thousands ways of expressing faith in this world. You subscribe to one of them. I only subscribe to one less than you do."

Beth frowned. "So you give my family's beliefs the same weight as every other."

"Essentially, yes."

"Then, with no reason to accept that one church out of four thousand has the only path to the truth..." She paused as she followed the logical consequence of that reasoning.

"All I hear is noise," I suggested helpfully.

"And on 'Judgement Day'..." She did the air-quotes. "You could stand before God and say you never knowingly hurt the innocent. But you could point to some of the devout and ask if they could say the same."

"As I think I may have said before, exactly. Another issue is when believers conflate their faith with morality. Do your family's moral values align with all four thousand religions? Of course not. So what makes theirs right and all the others wrong?"

"So I'm not a sinner?"

"Who have you hurt?" Marie had been listening in. "Your parents who accepted the most convenient truth? You treacherous sister? Your cheating partner? But somehow you're concerned that you're the one that's sinned because you've shared your body with us? You don't have to explain your actions to us Beth, but you owe it to yourself to set your own boundaries rather than let some self-aggrandising third party dictate them."

"And prayer?"

"Prayers should be for guidance. Not for things," Marie said. "You are looking within for the right thing to do. A believer thinks the answer comes from God; an atheist thinks it comes from their sense of right and wrong. The source is irrelevant as long as the intention is good."

The young woman sat musing as we rocketed through the landscape. "This is all very confusing," she said. "I was brought up knowing some things were true, but now I find that they are just one point of view. Geoff has slept with married women-"

"We all have," Angie corrected her.

"Okay. And I've slept with a married man, and both of his wives, and I cannot believe I just said that, yet... And yet I can't convince myself that I've done anything wrong." The rest of us stayed quiet. This was self-reflection, not a tutorial. "The one thing that most religions claim to believe is that we should be good to each other," she eventually decided. "Everything else is... What's the word I'm looking for?"

"Ritual?" Marie suggested.

"Bollocks," Angie contributed.

"Padding?" I offered. "A forty minute service just to say don't be arseholes to each other."

"And trans people?"

"We have a trans friend," Angie announced.

"Of course you do," Beth grinned.

"If you think being trans is against God's will," Marie argued. "Then we'd respect that and we would support you if you had to deal with the trauma of spending the rest of your life feeling like a man trapped in a woman's body. But if you insulted our friend, Jess, for identifying as the lovely young woman that we know and like, then you would have crossed a line for us."

"Because my faith dictates my relationship with God, not yours."

"That's how we see it," Marie agreed. "Of course, the downside is that we have to be accountable for our own decisions; we can't use God, Satan, the church or anyone else as an excuse."

"Like my dad does," Beth said. "He just spouts whatever line the Pastor, his favourite news anchor or some buddy in a bar sells him. I've sometimes wondered if he actually has an opinion of his own."

"We know people like that too," Angie sympathised. "And there's no point arguing with them so we just keep our private lives to ourselves. Well, mostly."

Beth returned to her window gazing and I went back to my book. "I think I'll forgive them," the young woman decided after a while.

"Probably for the best," I agreed absently, turning a page.

"Carrying a grudge sounds far too much like hard work," she elaborated. "They aren't worth the effort."

"Uh-oh," muttered Angie.

"Something you want to share dear?" Marie enquired sweetly.

"Er. Well, it's like this. If Beth comes back to the UK with us, I thought her ex might still be be the kind to retaliate, so I've sort of blocked him."

"Where?" Beth asked. "Like on social media?"

Three pairs of eyes stared intently at Angie. "Um. Not as such, no. More along the lines of registering him on the UK Border Force visa watch list."

"Angie has some interesting and influential friends in the intelligence community," I explained. "Probably best not to enquire further. How did you justify that?" I asked Angie, fascinated

"I just said that there was a man who might associate me with someone with whom he had a grievance, so there was a remote chance he might look for payback. My associates value my safety over some random tourist's vacation plans. So..." She shrugged expressively.

"Neat," I complimented her, and resumed reading.

Beth gazed between us. "Is that it?" She sounded exasperated. "Angie simply makes a call and Glenn's locked out of England? Just like that?"

"Technically the whole of the UK," Marie corrected her. "So that's Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland too." Beth waited for further explanation but, none being forthcoming, she shook her head and returned to her study of the scenery.

After a very pleasant lunch, Angie raised a new topic. "Beth. Do you have a cozzy with you?"

"Excuse me? A what?"

"A cozzy; a costume; a swimsuit."

"For Paris?"

"Ah. Suppose not. Unless...?"

Even though I wasn't part of that conversation, I knew something was brewing. I looked up: At two innocent and one bemused face. I put my book down with a resigned sigh. "Unless what, Angie? Pray do tell."

Angie cracked first. "Marie and I have full day planned tomorrow but the day after is fairly clear. We thought we might all unwind with a day at the beach."

Something about the way she said, 'The Beach' made me feel as though the words should be written in bold italics. "I assume you have a particular beach in mind?" Her expression writ clear that she did. "Might this beach have a, shall we say, minimalist dress code?" I ventured.

"Possibly."

"Okay." And I picked up my book again. What? They wanted to go to a nudist beach. If they wanted to strip, fine. If they wanted to look at cocks, or even boobs, good for them. I was hardly going to object to seeing naked ladies, and I did after all, not that long ago, have sex with Jo in front of an invited audience, so getting my own tackle out wasn't all that daunting either.

Beth, on the other hand, was finding her new ground-state of perpetual befuddlement rather frustrating. "How is it that you three never actually say things out loud?" She grumbled. "I hear every word you speak but, at the same time, I seem to be missing entire conversations."

Marie, our cunning linguist (see what I did there?) answered. "You're assuming that because our languages share the same words, they are identical. But you're missing the cultural element." She settled back into her seat to pontificate. "In western movies, when someone says 'Howdy', you accept that as a greeting because it's what you're used to, even though it's a contraction of 'how do you do'. In the UK I used to have to reassure my American students that our version, 'alright?', a contraction of 'are you alright?' performed the same function. But it wasn't what they were used to. Some were frantically worried that their classmates thought they looked unwell, others completely derailed the interaction by listing every one of their physical, mental and emotional concerns."

I took over. "And it's even more difficult for you because we three know each other so well. So, when Angie follows an apparently innocent question with a meaningful pause, I automatically analyse her statement for the most plausible sub-text. We're heading towards the Mediterranean coast; there will be beaches; therefore you might want a swimsuit; but the implication that you might not, especially coming from these two lunatics, implies nudity is an option; QED."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Which bit?"

"Any of it. All of it. I'm not sure about anything any more."

"Fun, isn't it, when life has so many options?" I took pity on the girl and answered her question sensibly. "My wives are free to show as much or as little skin as they choose. From the fact that this is their idea, I'm assuming they're planning on going fully nude. I've no objection to following their lead and none of us will try to influence you." I thought for a moment. "That's probably not true, but they won't actually force you."

My eyes may have glazed over as I pictured my two naked wives playfully trying to untie the strings of a writhing and giggling Beth's bikini whilst surrounded by bronzed naked Spanish women. "You are imagining that right now, aren't you?" Beth's voice intruded into my reverie.

"Might have been," I conceded, somewhat defensively.

"People like me don't go to nude beaches," she protested.

"What do people like you do then?" I enquired.

She glanced round my little triad as we hurtled through France at two hundred miles an hour; me with my book, Marie doing her crossword (in French) and Angie playing speed-Sudoku on her Chromebook. "Not this." She waved at the window. "This is only my third time on a train, and the first time was just a few days ago. Now I'm travelling to Barcelona with a married triad I've only just met, but still had sex with, towards a nudist beach!"

I put my arm around her shoulder so she could lean into me. "Perhaps this new sense of responsibility for your future seems intimidating: not marrying the guy your dad approves of, not going to church with your mother, deciding for yourself how to deal with your sister rather than just 'getting over it' like you've been told to."

I turned to kiss her on the lips. "There's a trite saying that might apply here. 'If you only ever do what you've always done, you'll only ever be who you are now.' There a variations on the theme of course, but my point is that you took the first step yourself by escaping to Paris. We invited you to join us," I reminded her. "But it was you that said yes. It was you that turned down that rugby player and you that invited me into your bed. So maybe your issue is really that you are still getting used to the idea that you are more than other people would have had you believe."

She looked doubtful, and I sympathised, her life had been in turmoil for days, and this long journey had been her first real opportunity to slow down and reflect.

Angie's tablet chimed. "Oh. We've got an email from Peter."

"Peter's our son," I explained to Beth.

"He's got everyone at our wedding to send him their video clips and Ben has edited them into some sort of sequence. It's attached to the email."

Books and puzzles were abandoned as Angie carefully set the screen so we could all see it. It was fifteen minutes long, skilfully interspersing guests' phone clips with the footage taken by Ben himself. There were a few teary eyes, on screen as well as off, during the exchange of vows, and our final exit through the light-sabre arch looked amazing.

Beth watched, enthralled, commenting on the outfits, the scenery and the ceremony as the clip played. "That girl," she began once the clip was finished. "The one on the leash, in the bikini..."

"Emily," Marie provided.

"That would NEVER have flown at a wedding back home, but no-one at your wedding seemed to care."

"To be fair," Angie pointed out. "Only a handful of people there knew that was her actual kink on full display. Most folks probably thought she was just cosplaying the scene from the film."

"Her kink?"

"Yes. She gets off on being dominated and controlled by Adrian," Angie continued cheerfully. "She's got it even worse than me. I've got my own collar in my bag if you want to see it."

"I think Beth is a little overwhelmed as it is at the moment. Perhaps later?" I suggested. Angie subsided, disappointed.

"Angie has a collar?"

"Yes. It's her special treat."

"And Lucy is your sex-toy?"

"Her own decision," I insisted.

"Why though?" Beth demanded. "Just what do you do to make things like that happen?"

I shrugged. "Why ask me? Angie is right there. Or Marie might have a woman's insight. Or perhaps..." Again I leant down to kiss her. "Perhaps you could ask yourself the same question. After all..." I gestured at the four of us. Four people who had shared the same bed only last night.

Beth returned to her thoughtful contemplation of the French countryside while the girls re-watched the video, admiring those costume elements they'd missed on the day. And so our journey continued.

Again, there was a driver waiting to collect us from the station. Our Spanish accommodation was a top floor suite in a smaller but exquisite boutique hotel about five hundred metres from Playa Mar Bella, a clothes optional beach.

We used the bathrooms, changed and hit the street. That's the thing about civilised train travel, it doesn't leave you feeling fraught. We paired up and meandered towards the centre, admiring the architecture as we went.

"Meals tonight?" I asked. It isn't that I don't take an interest, it's just that two perfectly capable women do not need micro-managing by me when they are creating an itinerary.

"We thought we'd freestyle," Marie replied. I nodded in satisfaction. It was still early, by Spanish standards at least, so there was plenty of time to find a place with an interesting menu.

Beth abstained in advance. "I trust your judgement. You've not let me down so far." Even so, she participated in our discussions as we checked out the menus outside the restaurants that appealed to us. It was also then that we discovered that her grasp of Spanish was second only to Marie's, though Beth did find some differences between the North American and European dialects. As it happened, a restaurant specialising in seafood appealed to us. Well, it appealed to three of us, and the one who claimed to have never tasted fresh seafood was intrigued at the prospect.

We ordered tapas-style. Plates of calamari, grilled sardine, clams and more were placed on the table between us, along with olives, spiced local meats and freshly baked bread. We ate every scrap and sank two bottles of local white wine.

"I envy you," Beth remarked as we finished with a coffee. "This, all of this, is just a few hours from your home. I can fly for two hours and the people, the stores, the cars, the language, it's all just the same as where I live." Again, I realised how strong the young woman was. Her entire world had shifted and she had now been transported to an unfamiliar place while she came to terms with her future. She was handling it really well.

Marie's voice echoed my thoughts. "Is this too much, Beth? Are we pushing too hard? Do you feel that you've been caught up in a current you can't escape from?"

"No!" The response was emphatic. "You gave me time and space to think. And all this." She gestured around us. "You're so generous and so at ease. I'd never have found myself eating this food in a place like this if you hadn't rescued me."

"Have you made any decisions yet?" Angie asked.

"I might have to go home," Beth admitted reluctantly. "Canada is an option, but I can't just show up there expecting a paycheck just like that."

My own idea resurfaced. "Erm." I hesitated. Too late. I had everyone's attention. "It did occur to me that Angie's suggestion that Beth could use the apartment has one main drawback; Beth would be on her own a lot of the time."

"Go on," Marie prompted me.

"What if we asked Charles and Megan if they could use a live-in nurse to help with Charles? You know? Regular physio, keep track of his medication that sort of thing. Then Megan could feel less guilty about leaving him alone, and Lucy could focus on her work."

Marie turned to Beth. "We'll ask, but only if that's what you want. But, if it did, then you could take all the time you need to decide what to do next. Nursing in Canada, see if the UK is somewhere you'd want to stay, whatever. At least your decision wouldn't need to be rushed."

"My instinct is to ask why. But it's just you, isn't it? If you see a problem and there's a way to help, you just do." She thought for a moment. "Yes please. As long as it's no trouble and I'd actually be helping them, then that would be great."

"Um. And Lucy?" Angie said meaningfully.

"This is the Lucy you told me about?" Beth clarified. I nodded. "You're doing it again," she said accusingly. "What is Angie actually asking?"

"Lucy is a force of nature," Marie began. "Her approach to life is like her art: bold strokes in dramatic colours. Angie was merely implying that you might find her overwhelming. I don't think you would. In fact, your story might even inspire a work or two. Imagine that."

Beth's phone chirped. She excused herself to take the call outside while we settled the bill. We looked around the small square with a handful of bistros while she chatted. I noticed a few locals glaring at people who were obviously tourists, judging by their backpacks and the ubiquitous water bottles. My companions were wearing smart dresses they had bought in Paris, bottles and backpacks being notable by their absence, so as a group we blended in quite easily.

I had read about this. There was some bad feeling developing over locals being priced out of apartments because they were being snapped up and rented at insane prices to visitors. They were okay with villas being built specifically for holidaymakers but were understandably pissed off at their kids being unable to afford homes because speculators had bought them all.

I idly wondered if a badge saying, "I'm staying in a hotel." might placate them but decided not to bother pursuing the idea further.

Beth finished her call. "Traci's damage limitation seems to be working, and my mom called hers. What had Traci said to her? Was I cheating? Was I pregnant? Where was I? Traci's mom told her the truth. No, no and she didn't know, just that I was safe." She gave a brave smile. "One of the other cops asked her pretty much the same on her last shift. Apparently, Glenn had called some buddies in the department with weird questions about the Dark Web and CCTV in Paris, and people are starting to wonder what's gotten into him."

We ambled back to our hotel, taking in the sights of our new environment. While Barcelona was a big city with big city ambience, it had its own Catalan personality too.

That evening back in our suite, Angie and Beth were first into our shared bed and Marie and I were content to let them pleasure each other without any interference from us. After some heavy petting and worshipping at my senior wife's ample bosom, we settled ourselves spooning with me gently fucking Marie from behind.

By then, the other pair were scissoring, pressing their clits together in an erotic display that added even more spice to the impending orgasms that Marie and I were striving ever more urgently towards. I think we all peaked within a minute of each other and slumped back in contented silence across the huge bed.

"I wish that I could bottle the way I feel right now," Beth sighed some time later. "I know that I should feel sad, I mean so many people have let me down, but now I feel grateful. I'm free of Glenn, Tammy can't fuck up my life any more and mom and dad have shown me who and what is important to them. I can literally do anything I want from now on without worrying about any of them."

"Don't rush, sweetheart," Marie cautioned her. "However resilient you are, you've still had a lot to process. Let life happen for few weeks while you come to terms with everything."

"I intend to, Marie," the young woman said. "For as long as you'll have me, I intend to enjoy every experience that comes my way. Apart from pushy sportsmen," she added after a moment's thought.

"And the beach?" I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively.

"Especially at the beach," she smiled, amused by a sudden thought. "Might one of you take a photo for my mom? She already thinks I'm such a sinner, it would be a pity to disappoint her."

"Probably best to be careful about photos," I warned. "Taking an obvious selfie might be okay, but other people will be very unhappy about being caught in the background. And cover up to leave the beach to go to bars and the like. What?" I was aware of three sets of raised eyebrows. "I did the research before anyone gets arrested."

Marie brought the conversation to a natural end, natural by our standards anyway. "I'm leaking," she announced. "Shift yourself Angie or I'll likely dribble on you trying to get to the bathroom."

"I'll join you," Angie decided. "We can save water showering together."

Beth snuggled into me in our suddenly spacious bed. "I feel blessed," she said.

"Well you are very blessable," I agreed. "If I were a few years younger I'd bless you three times a night and all day Sunday."

She punched me playfully on the shoulder. "You know what I meant," she giggled adorably. (Sorry!)

I hugged her closer, relishing the softness of her breast against my skin. "You know?" I said, dropping the flippancy. "You do realise how fond of you we all are?"

"It's a little scary, but yes," she admitted. "None of this makes sense but still... I can tell that you love each other, but you also seem to share so easily, even with me."

"We've changed a lot in the last year," I replied. "Re-evaluated what matters to us, that sort of thing. And the one thing that seems to be at the core of those changes is that sex as an expression of affection is okay. All the women I've slept with have been of a type: Nothing to do with skin colour, age, height, build or physical appearance. But they are all decent, strong, resourceful women coping with adversity, the way you are."

"I'm not strong."

"You could have folded," I argued. "You could have let them gaslight you. But you didn't. You are far stronger than you think."

"What I think is..." She turned over and wiggled her bum into my groin. "What I think is that you should make love to me while there's lots of room in this bed." And that's exactly what I was doing when my flushed and damp wives emerged from their shower.

They watched me make slow, romantic love to a younger woman, young enough to be our granddaughter, and their faces showed nothing but honest joy at our pleasure. My first wife and my second wife, both naked as they dried their hair, watched as Beth's gasps grew closer together until her whole body tensed and then melted. I tried to take her to another climax, but I was too close myself and could not hold back before I pulsed inside her.

"Is it wrong that I find that so fucking hot?" Angie directed her question at Marie.

"By most standards, absolutely everything that has happened in this room this evening is 'wrong'," Marie pointed out. "Deciding that seeing a friend orgasm is hot seems mild by comparison."

"Do you ever regret it, Marie?" Angie asked. "Setting Geoff up with me and the girls in the first place? And then afterwards? With the others?"

A languid Beth shifted in my arms to hear Marie's reply. "I worried," my wife admitted. "Worried that Geoff might think I didn't care any more. Worried that he might assume I was opening the door to taking lovers myself. But regret?" She shook her head. "Geoff is content, my friends are happier and we have you. What is there to regret?"

"Love you, babe," Angie said gently, embracing our wife. "Love you both."

We watched as the two naked women hugged. It should have been erotic, yet it was an expression of entirely wholesome love rather than being sexual. "I want to feel a love like that," Beth said quietly, almost to herself. "To have someone I can open up to, knowing they won't judge me."

"You will," I predicted. "You're growing as a person every day; discovering who you are; testing your own limits rather than accepting arbitrary rules. You act where once you might have passively acquiesced. New Beth will find a man who deserves her and will make her happy. Trust me on this."

She turned to face me, eyes glistening. "I do though, trust you that is, and I've no idea why."

"It's his superpower," Angie reminded her from the other side of the room. "His penis is lovely, true enough, but his brain makes him a fucking menace to women everywhere. Please Geoff," she grinned. "Swear that you'll only ever use your gift for good."

I glanced at my watch. It was getting late. "Bedtime proper," I announced. "We have tickets booked for tomorrow and I need my sleep." I hauled Beth out of bed and into the bathroom. we took turns to widdle and then took a very brief shared shower. Even with no hanky-panky, sharing a shower with a pretty young woman is spiritually uplifting. My 'spirit' certainly started to lift up again.

By the time we were dried the other two were snuggled down. Marie pulled Beth next to her and I spooned up against Angie. We seemed to have a shared sense of who needed to be with whom and that suited me. And with that thought, I was gone...

I don't intend to write a travel blog. The Gaudi houses were fascinating, but the Sagrada Familia! An edifice that seemed to grow out of the city's very soil, almost organic yet magnificent. I've visited a lot of great cathedrals, even as an atheist I can appreciate craftsmanship. But this? Where York, Durham, Canterbury and the rest occupy and dominate their surroundings, the Sagrada Familia truly belonged in that space, of it rather than just in it.

The interior was as impressive as the exterior and we walked silently, admiring the different perspectives, the vaulted ceilings and the stained glass. Beth saw something and changed direction. There were small alcoves dedicated to prayer. She glanced back to reassure herself we wouldn't leave her and then knelt. Marie and Angie sought out one of those small racks of candles and lit one in memory of our lost child, not as a particular religious observance but as a memorial for the woman we never got to know. I waited patiently as the three of them found what peace they could.

Over coffee in a nearby square after our visit, we compared our impressions. Overwhelming was the common theme. "I still believe in God," Beth told us. "It seems perverse somehow, but you three seem to have led me closer to Him." She gathered her thoughts. "Back there, in the Basilica, I prayed. I prayed for clarity and strength. And, like Marie said, it's not important where that clarity came from as long as it helps me to be true to myself. And Geoff was right, Angie too in her way, if I can find my answers within, why should I rely on the guidance of others, particularly when it's at odds with what I believe to be right?"

"Absolutely," I agreed. Marie and Angie echoed my feelings.

"What about the intimacy we've shared?" Marie asked. "Does that not offend you now?"

"Not at all. If there had been deceit involved I could have walked away. But there is no deceit, just love. How can that offend God?"

"And you?" Angie asked, leaving the question open.

"Still me, but more free, less guilt. As long as I'm true to myself and what I believe to be right, that's all that matters. There is one thing though," she added regretfully. We waited. "I can see now that if I exposed my sister's and my fiance's treachery, it would be for revenge and that would make me no better than them." She shrugged and then grinned. "I'm not gonna tell them that though; I'm only an imperfect human after all."

"Oh." Angie sounded disappointed. Again, she found herself the centre of attention. "I suppose my brilliant plan is redundant now," she grumbled. "I was going to suggest we find a local PI and some drone operators to track your ex to so you could drop snippets about his activities to your family and his friends and screw with his mind."

"Entertaining, tempting even," Beth agreed. "But not happening. It's not happening, is it?"

"No. I was still in the planning stage," Angie sighed. And on that note, we drank up, paid and went to explore some more.

The following morning, fed, watered and now, thanks to a boutique detour the previous afternoon, equipped with beachwear, our little group set off to the seaside. My wives were buzzing with anticipation, whether at the thought of getting their tits out in public or the chance to observe multiple penises in the wild, I chose not to ask. Beth was more apprehensive. She knew that the beach was technically clothing-optional rather than truly nudist but, even so, this was yet something else not done by 'people like her'.

Apparently, people like her do, in fact, go naked on the beach, and without being crisped by thunderbolts from an outraged deity. Angie, of course, was first to get her bikini off, before I even had our blanket fully unfurled. Marie helped me straighten it before she followed suit. I stood and looked around, being careful not to stare at anyone in particular.

This part of the beach was busy, but not overly so. It was, after all mid-week early in the season so we had space enough for our little family. I looked at Beth. She had already slipped out of her sundress and was sporting a rather fetching bikini, what there was of it.

Giving a mental shrug, I pulled down my trunks and stepped out of them. The experience was one of freedom rather than sexuality. I looked around again and, as humbling at it might have felt, no-one gave a shit. I was just one more guy, not the oldest, the fittest or the fattest and neither was I sporting a particularly noteworthy penis. I was just one more man with no pants on. I settled between my two wives. "Well this is nice," I observed.

"Penises are weird," Angie decided having discreetly, by her standards anyway, assessed those in range.

"Handy for writing in the snow though," I pointed out.

Marie was rummaging in our shared beach-bag, finally emerging triumphantly with a factor 30 suncream. "Definitely put this on," she insisted. "Sunburn on those special little places would not be funny."

I looked up at an undecided Beth. "Do my back? Probably best to do our own fronts."

She took a deep breath and untied her top, dropping it next to me. Like me, she looked around and seemed to take comfort that nobody cared. Her bikini bottoms joined their mate. "Get over it," she chided herself quietly. "No-one knows you and no-one gives a crap."

She sat next to Marie and then tried to figure out how to sit in a ladylike manner with no knickers on, apparently neither as simple nor as comfortable as one might hope. In the end we did pair up to oil up. This time Angie and me, Marie and Beth.

The three women decided to just soak up some rays. I decided to read. I was on my third chapter when Angie offered a suggestion. "There's a stunning dark haired girl front and right. Why not take a good look Geoff and then you'll have something to prop your book against." She gave a dirty laugh at the implication.

In truth, I did look, and the woman was indeed as stunning as Angie said. The thing was though, her nakedness wasn't performative, it was natural In the same way that breast-feeding is. The girl's beauty was aesthetic rather than sexual. She was existing in this shared space on her terms, not trying to attract attention. I respected that and went back to my book. I say this with some pride, little Geoff never even twitched.

We walked down to the water, Beth carrying the beach bag with her. The reason soon became apparent. "Angie. Can you use my phone to take some photos? I know people are wary of cameras on the beach but it shouldn't be a problem facing the ocean. Especially if the only people in the background are Geoff and Marie. You can have your backs to the camera," she added hastily. "I want to send a photo to Traci to show her how much I've loosened up."

We spent the next ten minutes just messing about in the water taking turns to be the photographer. Nobody on the beach cared as we were ostentatiously careful to keep the phone pointing away from everyone else.

We decided not to press our luck and, returning the phone to the bag, strolled back to our little camp. "I like this feeling of freedom, Geoff," Marie said taking my hand as we walked. "Can we do something like this again?"

"We could rent a big villa, somewhere with a private beach," Angie suggested from behind us. "Fly all the girls out and have a huge nude holiday."

"Do they ever stop, Geoff?" Beth asked sympathetically.

"No," I admitted. "But I wouldn't have them any other way."

Once the novelty of sunbathing surrounded by bare tits and bums wore off, we retreated to our hotel. We showered and changed and, trying to look as Catalan as we could, hit the city again. Over the next two days we explored all of the sights on our must-see lists, even taking in a Dire Straits tribute concert by a local band. It was odd listening to a Spanish singer belting out Telegraph Road with a Geordie accent, but it worked. I was buzzing on the way back to the hotel and even the girls were humming passages from their favourite tracks. Beth, of course had never heard of them before. I despaired.

I showed my appreciation in the usual way. I clapped and cheered the band after each song and popped one of my erection enhancer pills into my mouth on the way back to our hotel to show my gratitude to my wives. Marie was first to feel the benefit after I had pounced on her almost as soon as the suite door closed. I threw her, giggling, onto the bed and mauled her breasts, and trust me, those breasts required a lot of mauling.

Then, while I kissed her, my naughty hand crept under the hem of her dress to massage her through her knickers. "Take them off!" she growled. "Rip the buggers off if you have to."

See? Communication is at the forefront of our renewed relationship. As it turned out, I didn't have to because they slid easily over her hips and down her legs. Easily because I was kneeling upright now to savour the sight of the pink and glistening flower blooming in front of me. I bent to taste the dewdrops surrounding her entrance.

I felt the bed shake slightly as Angie and Beth joined us, not interfering, merely spectating. Marie's hands massaged my scalp as I tried to put the lessons I'd learnt by watching her with other women into practice. Her grip wasn't urgent yet; I was trying to prolong her pleasure rather than chase an orgasm. Even the nicest destination is enhanced if the journey is pleasant too.

Eventually, I felt the mood change, she was ready. I increased the intensity and depth of my lingual probing. I slid two fingers into her cunt, curling and straightening them to maximise the sensation. Now my focus switched to her clit, laving it with the flat of my tongue. Her responses told me all I needed to know; when, where, how fast, how hard. The pressure of her hands on my head had changed. Where she was previously caressing now she was directing me, pulling me urgently, tight against her cunt. I responded until I felt the tremors begin, at which point I had a choice; I could oblige her or deny her, tormenting her with the promise of a spectacular orgasm, but not just yet.

I chose a third option. I pressed on with my assault, intensifying every single movement, even caressing her gorgeous little bum-hole. To be honest, one finger slightly exceeded its rules of engagement and slipped inside. Neither of us objected.

Marie's entire body began to spasm. "Yes!" she called out. "Oh my God, yes!"

I kept going, trying to maintain the endorphin rush flooding through her system until her body began to relax and her grip on my head changed to actually push me away. I complied but I still wasn't finished with her. I moved up and she gave me a lazy kiss then, suddenly she tensed as she felt my tip at her entrance. I slid inside her slick tunnel almost in one thrust. Within seconds I began to fuck her, and not tenderly either. I hoped that she was still so aroused that I could bring her back to the brink.

I had guessed correctly, within a couple of minutes she was once more getting close. Her magnificent chest had regained its flush and her breathing was ragged. I pounded into her as hard and as fast as I could and watched as her eyes glazed and her head began to jerk from side to side. I was in complete control now and nowhere near to ejaculating. This time, when she came, I was going to fuck her through her climax and out the other side until she begged for mercy.

This woman was built from stern stuff, four long orgasms later and me much closer to my own than I'd like to admit, she eventually surrendered, flopping bonelessly back onto our mattress. "No more, Geoff," she mumbled contentedly. "Can't do no more."

Angie and Beth, both enjoying their own post-orgasmic embrace, watched as I slowly withdrew my glistening cock, still hard, from Marie's vagina. "You want a hand with that?" Angie enquired innocently.

"A hand?" I retorted. "In a bed blessed with multiple mouths, vaginas and anuses, you offer me a hand?"

"Well," she came back with a grin. "If we take the anuses off the table..." We all winced at the image that conjured up. "... how about two mouths and your choice of vaginas?"

"I accept your terms," I said graciously.

"Erm?" Beth broke in. "Two mouths? You meant yours and Marie's?"

"God no!" Angie snorted derisively. "She'll be no good for anything for the rest of the night."

"But I don't-"

"You don't do it because you don't like it?" Angie guessed, correctly it seemed from Beth's shy nod. "Now listen," Angie said quietly. "No, sex shouldn't be transactional, but it still should be equitable. Is that fair?" Again the girl agreed. Angie continued. "So if you want your men to go down on you, as they should," she added firmly. "Then reciprocating is the least you can do. Spit, swallow, have them cum in your hand or on your tits, that's for you to decide, but don't condemn your man to a life without oral or he may just return the compliment."

"I guess that's true," the young woman agreed reluctantly.

"The good news," Angie added brightly, "Is that Geoff has kindly agreed to lie there and let me show you how to blow a man on your terms. Isn't that right, my dear husband?"

"Indeed it is, my darling wife."

Angie beamed at my response. "Now here," she began, turning serious. "Lets forget whatever porn you or your man has been watching and we'll start with the basics. You have two hands, so use them. One can massage his balls or tickle his bum or whatever perversion appeals to you, but the other one you fist around the base of his cock." She demonstrated. Little Geoff got bigger instantly. "Now," she said, still in tutor mode. "You can give him a hand job to ramp him up before..." And she bent to engulf my glans, her warm wet tongue gently stroking my frenulum.

Even though I was expecting the sensation I couldn't help but gasp. "Fuck! Angie that's so..."

"See?" The lecture continued a minute later in a smug voice. "He's completely in my control. Even if his hips buck, my hand puts me in charge of how much cock goes in my mouth." She released me and straightened up. "Now you try."

"You don't have to," I cautioned Beth. "Angie will do it anyway. But if you want to try in a safe place there will never be a better time, a better teacher or a more willing subject."

Had I sensed reluctance, I would have called a halt there and then. But Beth seemed determined as she followed Angie's instructions. She cupped my balls in her left hand and grasped my still rigid cock in her right. The anticipation about what was about to follow almost had me boiling over anyway.

She moved her hand gently an inch or two up and down. I watched fascinated as she stared intently at the results. I understood. In the heat of passion we lose the ability to watch, analyse and learn. I suspected that sex workers use this to their advantage. Being emotionally remote from the act, they can focus on their client. This was the mindset I tried to emulate with the 'coven'. I knew that at some point in the near future my sexual needs would be met regardless, so I could concentrate on the immediate needs of the woman in front of me. That was what Beth now had the space and time to do.

Slowly, she copied Angie's actions. "Use your tongue on the underside," Angie instructed. Again, I gasped. "There," teacher pointed out. "See how he reacted? You could make him cum just by doing that. No grandstanding, just by suckling on his glans."

Beth was doing just fine. As she accommodated to the situation, she began to experiment. Slowly jacking her fist or moving her head up and down. Angie watched her student's progress. Commenting, advising or complimenting as I grew closer to my own climax.

"Ladies..." I warned them, now breathing heavily myself. "I'm close."

"Where, Beth?" she asked. "Where do you want him to cum? On your boobs perhaps," she suggested. "Deal with spit or swallow another time."

I moaned. Have I mentioned how I felt about Beth? There she was, a vision kneeling between my legs, touching me in places that normally require nitrile gloves, using her tongue on my most sensitive spot.

"Put your hands on her head," Angie instructed me. "Let her learn how to manage a guy when he comes."

Surprised but seeing her point, I complied and put my hand on Beth's head. It wasn't long before my body began to react; my hips jerking without conscious thought; my hands involuntarily seeking to pull her further onto me.

"Feel his scrotum," Angie told her pupil. "Listen to him, feel his body react and then, when he cums, you decide where."

The whole situation was so intense now. Beth's original hesitation was long past. Now her sole purpose in life seemed to be to extract my soul via my penis. I felt it begin. "Beth. I'm gonna..." And I did.

For the first time that evening, she ignored Angie's advice. I gazed, speechless, as she sucked me through my orgasm, collecting every millilitre of semen. I felt the final pulse leave my body and lay back, releasing my hold on her head.

"Show me," Angie said. Beth straightened and obediently opened her mouth. "Now kiss me," she insisted. Beth complied. I lay spent as a woman in her twenties shared my seed with another woman forty years her senior. By the time they separated, it was gone. "How did that feel?" Angie sought feedback, like the educator she was.

"Not like before, with the others." Beth was thoughtful as she tried to analyse her feeling. "Back then it was them having sex with my mouth and I was just a warm wet sex toy. But tonight, I was in charge. Nobody used me. It was my gift to my lover."

"Did you enjoy it though?" Angie persisted.

Once more, Beth paused to consider her response. "I did." She seemed surprised by her own answer. "I did," she repeated herself. "Because I gave pleasure to someone I cared about and, at the same time, I felt empowered. I was the one doing the sex rather than the one being done to. Does that make any sense?"

"Perfect sense," Marie mumbled from beside me. "In most positions, the man dictates everything. You're just responding to the feeling of being the one in charge of his orgasm for a change."

"Oh, hello sleepy-head," Angie greeted her fondly. "Fancy another round or can Beth and I give him a work out?" Marie just closed her eyes again.

"I am literally right here," I complained. "I'm not just a piece of meat."

"You are tonight lover-boy," Angie grinned across at Beth. "Our meat." And they both pounced on me. What followed was shocking, depraved and wonderful, and so loud that Marie woke up, shook her head in despair and decamped to the second bedroom.

"You took one of your pills, didn't you?" Angie grinned as she straddled me.

"All the better to thank you with," I agreed.

"Then tonight is ladies' choice?" she persisted. "Ladies in the plural," she clarified.

"If that's what you want." Apparently it was. My tablets were tested to the limit that night. I begged for mercy after my final orgasm at around one o'clock in the morning. The debauchery ended with Beth riding me like a jockey with the Hounds of Hell chasing after us, whilst my second wife enhanced my ejaculation by massaging my prostate - from the inside!

The sensation as I shot my final load into my young American lover was as exquisite as it was debilitating. I enjoyed every second whilst being wary about repeating the experience ever again. That being said, even after Beth dismounted I barely moved a muscle before falling into a deep untroubled sleep.

We had one last day soaking up the atmosphere of the beautiful Spanish city and then, too soon, it was time for our next destination, Lisbon.

This time we flew, the distance between cities meaning that making the journey by road or rail would have taken far too long. Our accommodation in Portugal turned out to be a villa not far from the airport. So close, in fact, that our taxi ride to it took less than fifteen minutes. The place itself wasn't huge but it was smart and well equipped, as in there was a private pool to the rear. So private that swimwear would be completely unnecessary. As indeed proved to be the case.

We ate out that evening, every evening to be honest. Although we had three competent cooks in our group - Beth claimed that she once burned a salad - we saw no point in wasting the opportunity to have professionals cook authentic dishes for us. Anything we really loved we could try to reproduce once we got home.

That idea fell at the first fence that evening after we tried the grilled octopus in olive oil, octopus not being something readily available at our local Waitrose store back home. Even so, the villa's kitchen was unlikely to get a challenging workout during our few days there.

On our first full day we hired a local student to provide a guided tour to Sintra, Pena and Regaleira. These three palaces are in close proximity and lent themselves to a combined excursion. Pena, atop a hill, painted in ochre and pastel earth tones is what Disney castles aspire to be. Look it up if you don't believe me. The girl was smart, enthusiastic, knowledgeable and spoke excellent English and no, we didn't try to seduce her.

The following day we explored on foot, then took the Number 28 tram to the Castle, then the bus to Belem. Another day we spent hours in the sea-life centre and more hours in the local bars trying to appreciate the local Fado music.

We rented a car to visit Cascais and Colares, finding a gorgeous restaurant virtually on the beach. It had a tank indoors with dozens of live crabs that diners could select from. It wasn't the cheapest meal we'd had but some of those crabs simply cooked with garlic, olive oil and herbs were incredible. Beth almost passed on eating something she had literally seen walking about minutes earlier but caved when she saw other diners' meals leaving the kitchen.

As for the expense, Angie had given Beth the same lecture that we had received. In summary, the trip was her gift to us, our companionship was our gift to her. The girl understood. She had contemplated the reality of being alone in Paris. Having found companions who shared in her experiences had turned an escape into a real vacation. She also appreciated the irony that salvaging the wreckage of her own honeymoon had led her to join ours. Not, she admitted, exactly the honeymoon she had originally intended but, in her opinion, better in every respect, especially the sex.

Speaking of which, she had sent her friend a carefully curated set of photos from our trip; views from the Eiffel Tower, her meal at Les Deux Freres, the Sagrada Familia, the nude beach, Pena Palace and a few more from Lisbon. Since their last conversation, a few of Glenn's cop buddies had tried to covertly garner intelligence on his behalf regarding Beth's fleeing in shame. Traci had cheerfully showed them the photos, even the nudes.

"Does that look like a woman who fled the country in shame for an abortion in Europe?" she had asked. Most had admitted that it didn't

In line with her new relationship with God, Beth had decided not to share the images of her sister and her ex booking into a grotty hotel in Paris. Well, at least not with Traci. She did send a few that Angie had captured outside the Hotel Fortuna to her sister, with the message, 'No apology from mom yet. Clock is ticking!'

Between excursions we had been busy too, and not just fucking. Marie and Angie had spoken to Megan, a solicitor, about Beth's situation and my idea that accommodating her as a companion for her and Charles might suit all concerned. Megan was on board straight away. She guided us through the electronic travel authorisation (ETA) application process, suggesting that Beth would be 'staying with friends', namely Megan and Charles. The ETA was approved within two days. If Glenn tried to apply he'd find a lot more obstacles than Beth did.

So we were set. One final evening meal before a leisurely bout of affectionate sex and it was an early drive to the airport the next morning for our flight home. Our honeymoon was over and it was time to navigate the reality of living in a three person marriage. And Beth? She says that she intends to keep a journal too. Perhaps she'll share it in due course.