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Subject: A Stable in Malmaison (Nicole Flandre, f/m, 1/1)
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This is an extract from an Obelisk Library Etext title
available via Email or on disk. For more information
about this and other Etext titles, ask for the
Obelisk Library Catalog at: <specpress@earthlink.net>

This text is for adults only.

from Nicole Flandre: EROS IN PARIS
Copyright (c) 1991 Spectrum Press Inc.
All Rights Reserved
Published by Spectrum Press Inc.
ISBN 1-57138-109-0
<specpress@earthlink.net>




In a Stable in Malmaison

     Germaine Devereaux was bored.  She had no idea now why she'd
agreed to accompany her husband to this wearisome party in
Malmaison in the suburbs of Paris.  It was true the chateau was
pleasant to look at, but the gathering of stuffy men of affairs
and their dull wives was too much to bear.  These people all
seemed so happy with themselves, so smug in their contentment. 
Some of them were merely rich businessmen; others also carried
titles as counts and dukes, inheritors of ancient nobilities
established centuries ago.  Germaine amused herself by
considering that a single bomb exploded in this large room might
destroy half the economy of France.
     The month was June and she wore white, a simple white dress
that she thought showed her figure to advantage.  Some of the
other women were also dressed in white, and whenever their eyes
met hers she received a glance of curiosity.  She hardly knew any
of these women.  She recognized the wives of certain executives
who worked for Bernard, but nearly all the other women were
complete strangers to her.
     There was no airconditioning in the old chateau and the heat
in the room was beginning to be cloying.  Germaine wished the
entire party of a hundred or so would adjourn to the lawns
outside.  What fool had arranged this affair indoors?
     She stood alone by choice, sipped her wine as she glanced
around the room at the crowd, the nodding heads, the smiles.  She
was only thirty-two and many of the other women were much older
than that.
     It's awful, she thought.  She did hate dull gatherings, all
these vapid people looking like so many museum exhibits in an
uncomfortably warm room.  It occurred to her she might begin
perspiring soon, and the idea seemed horrible.
     Suddenly a male voice spoke in Germaine's ear: "It's boring,
isn't it?"
     She turned and looked at him.  It was Claude Feger, one of
her husband's executives.  He was about forty, a tall man with a
trim looking body.
     "I don't mind it, Monsieur Feger."
     He smiled.  "I don't believe you.  It's too tedious not to
mind it.  It's a complete bore.  I told the chief it wasn't worth
it, but he insisted we had to make an appearance.  It's
terrible."
     Germaine smiled.  "Yes, you're right.  Is your wife here?"
     "She's visiting her mother in Lyon."
     "She's lucky, isn't she?"
     "Would you like some more wine?"
     "No, I think I've had enough."
     He chatted with her about the gathering, about Bernard's
factory, about certain difficulties he and Bernard had with the
workers.  But Germaine had no interest at all in Bernard's
business affairs and she hardly understood anything Claude Feger
told her.  All she knew was that Bernard had inherited an
extremely successful ceramics business and that his income
allowed her a comfortable life in Paris.
      Then she noticed that as Claude Feger talked he looked more
often than necessary at her breasts.  The dress she wore had a
rather tight bodice and it was cut low enough so part of the
upper slopes of her breasts were visible.  Very abruptly, she
felt her nipples tingling and Claude Feger became more
interesting.
     Oh Germaine, you're a fool, she thought.  Just a few sips of
wine at a dull gathering had made her vulnerable to the
attentions of one of Bernard's employees.  She was both amused
and annoyed.  The truth was that in eight years of marriage she
had never once been unfaithful to Bernard except in her
fantasies.  His lovemaking was dull and often clumsy, but she
detested the idea of adulterous entanglements.  Oh no, that sort
of thing would be unbearable.
     "Maybe you'd like a tour," Claude Feger said.
     Germaine stared at him.  "A tour of what?"
     "The grounds, of course.  The stables.  Do you like horses? 
The Comte de Buisson has some fine horses in the stables.  My
wife happens to be his niece and I've been here many times. 
Let's escape and have a look at the horses."
     They were close to one of the doors, and she allowed herself
to be led away.  She was thankful no one seemed to notice them,
thankful that at last she'd be away from these dull people.
     Claude Feger continued talking as they left the house to
walk to the stables.  She had a bit of trouble with her high
heels on the uneven stones of the walk and she finally took hold
of his arm and held it to keep her balance.
     "The horses will be pleased," he said.
     "But why?"
     "I'm bringing them an extremely attractive woman to look
at."
     Germaine was amused again.  Now that they were out of the
house and alone, she reacted more favorably to Claude Feger.  He
was more than a mere device to avoid the boredom of the party, he
was also an attractive man.  She tried to remember how many times
she'd met him before; was it three or four times?  He was tall
enough so that she was certain each time he looked down at her he
could see the valley between her breasts.
     At last he led her into the large stable, past one stall
after another.  He started talking about the horses, and it
seemed as though he knew some of them individually.  She soon
forgot all about the gathering in the chateau; Claude Feger and
the line of horses in the stable were definitely more
interesting.
     "This one is my favorite," Claude said.  "The best horse of
the lot."  Then he took her hand and he led her over to a stall
to show her a prize chestnut stallion.
     The big horse snorted at them and Germaine thought he was
indeed beautiful.
     "His name is Formidable," Claude said with a chuckle.  "I've
been told the name is in honor of his cannon."
     "His cannon?"
     "The virile appendage.  Here, watch this."
     Germaine felt herself blushing.  She kept her eyes on Claude
as he poked around outside the stall until he found what he
wanted.  It was a long stick with what looked like a feather
duster on one end.  He went around to the back of the horse and
he appeared to be rubbing the stallion's buttocks with the
duster.  Germaine moved along to find out what Claude was doing,
and she was shocked to see him calmly passing the duster back and
forth over the stallion's huge testicles.
     "Watch the organ," Claude said.
     She felt the pounding of her heart as she looked at the
horse's belly.  The stallion's penis was coming out, extending
like a long dark sausage, a huge thick member that was soon at
least thirty or thirty-five centimeters long.
     "That's why he's called Formidable," Claude said.  "It's the
biggest in the stable, much bigger than average."  Claude laughed
softly.  "Annemarie says it excites her every time she looks at
it."
     "Annemarie?"
     "My wife.  You've met my wife, haven't you?"
     "Oh yes."
     Claude suddenly seemed aware of her embarrassment.  "I beg
your pardon, Madame Devereaux.  I think I've offended you."
     "No, not at all."
     "I hope not."
     "I've never seen one like that."
     The stallion's member was now fully extended and dripping at
the tip.  The knob of the penis was a fat thing, and as Germaine
realized it must be as big as her fist it made her a little crazy
with lust to look at it.
     "Monsieur Feger, maybe we'd better go back to the house."
     "Will you call me Claude?"
     "Yes, why not?
     Then he looked amused as he made a gesture at the horse. 
"Well, what about his extension?  Is my wife correct when she
says every woman is excited by that?"
     Germaine felt herself trembling.  "I don't know."
     His eyes met hers and he held her gaze a long moment.  She
was suddenly fearful that he recognized how unsettled she was by
the sight of the stallion's huge penis.
     "Please, let's go now."
     But instead he moved close to her and he kissed her.  She
was caught by surprise, totally unprepared for it.  For an
instant she had a violent urge to push him away, but she remained
immobilized.  She thought about her husband in the chateau as
Claude Feger's lips pressed against her own.  She wondered what
kind of trouble she was making for herself by not resisting. 
Then Claude's tongue slid inside her mouth and in a moment her
response wiped the chateau and Bernard completely out of her
mind.
     Now she thought only of Claude.  As his hands moved over her
back, she wondered about his wife.  Germaine clearly remembered
her now.  Annemarie Feger was certainly no frump; she was a
blonde, a beautiful woman her own age.
     Germaine quivered as Claude's hands slid down her back and
over her buttocks.  He squeezed her flesh as he kissed her and
she could feel his fingers digging in through the thin material
of her dress.  She was aware of his hard body pressing against
her own and she couldn't deny how excited she was.
     It's an adventure, she thought; in eight years of marriage
to Bernard, she hadn't had a single adventure.
     She opened one eye and she looked at the horse again, at the
stallion's huge member still swaying under his belly like a dark
club.  Dear God, what a prick, she thought.  She felt the heat in
her sex, the moisture between her thighs as Claude's hands
continued stroking the curves of her buttocks.  The hard bulge in
the front of his trousers pressed against her belly as he kissed
her.  She moaned against his lips as he pulled at her wrist to
get it between their bodies.  She held back a moment, uncertain,
afraid of what she was doing, and then she yielded and she
suddenly had the evidence of Claude's desire under her
fingertips.
     He whispered encouragement in her ear.  "It's for you,
Germaine.  Only for you.  I've wanted you ever since the first
time we met."  He continued coaxing her and she soon found
herself unable to stop what she was doing.  She was too excited
by the feel of the hard sex under her fingers.  When she looked
at the horse, she saw that the stallion's member was slowly
retracting.  But now as her hand gripped the front of Claude's
trousers, she no longer cared about the horse...

------------------------------
End Extract

This is an extract from an Obelisk Library Etext title
available via Email or on disk. For more information
about this and other Etext titles, ask for the
Obelisk Library Catalog at: <specpress@earthlink.net>


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