Tuesday, January 6, 2015

Guest Post by Emma Styles

I would like to take a moment to welcome Emma Styles to this blog for a guest post! She is the author of First Tango in Paris which is available on Amazon here. You can also follow her on twitter here

Feature: “First Tango In Paris”
Guest Post by Emma Styles

From that very first eye opening evening I just knew Paris was going to be an inspirational turning point in my life. Until that moment I was a young stay at home Mum to two living a very suburban life in West London, coping with all the normal day to day stresses and strains of running a home and raising a small family. Of course this proved exciting and fulfilling in itself, however, that initial weekend opened my eyes to reveal something so different and so sexually gratifying, that after several late evening deliberations over a glass of wine with my husband, we both agreed entirely that it was something that we both wanted to explore further. I found that having my husband’s full approval, coupled with his desire to give me free rein to indulge and to fulfill even my wildest fantasies was exceptionally liberating and empowering.

After a period of throwing ourselves, or more to the point throwing myself head first in to the elegant yet completely riotous sexual freedom that Paris, it’s clubs and people had to offer, whether indulging as a couple or flying solo as a single woman, I began to structure both the family side of things with my new found hunger for wild, and on many occasions anonymous erotic encounters. I have discovered almost endless opportunities to turn any situation into a full blown sexual adventure, from a brief and teasing flash in a bar to a willing participant amongst a group of men in the afternoon clubs of Paris, which caters to the physical needs of a certain kind of confident and self-assured woman.

I very quickly became aware that the French in particular have a completely different outlook to most other cultures in the way they behave and express themselves sexually. In the vast majority of French society circles and in the many thriving chic and sophisticated Parisian “Clubs Privées” being a liberated woman who enthusiastically pursued and achieved her sexual desires is regarded with great respect and the utmost admiration.

Both my husband and myself find that the wide and diverse range of people who indulge in this hedonistic style of sexual gratification are some of the most interesting and intellectually inspiring people we’ve encountered. In fact many of our close friends followed in our footsteps and all say what a positive and emboldening experience it has been for them.

Simply having the knowledge that as well as the hugely rewarding family life at home, there was also a completely self-indulgent side of life, one that was there to be grasped with both hands and relished. I’ve found this in itself to be a huge thrill, both mentally and physically. It has certainly added a very positive “other” dimension to daily life.

I soon discovered that this sexual freedom that we had allowed each other to explore has simply strengthened our marriage. The level of trust that was already in place has only been enhanced further by the openness in which we approach and discuss all situations together, whether sexual or life in general. Almost from the very outset my husband adored me recounting my liaisons and outrageous shenanigans to him (no detail sparred), whether as a teaser over dinner - leading to our relentlessly exciting bedroom games, or wherever and whenever a situation presented itself. It simply keeps everything fresh and frisky.

My main reason to write “First Tango In Paris” was, as “erotic fiction” has recently become a hugely popular genre, I felt that it was all well and good reading about fictional characters in fictional situations, but thought that from my point of view it would be much more inspiring and liberating to read a wholly factual account from a person who has experienced it all in reality, in genuine and existing clubs and locations. Obviously, as with all things in life there are the disreputable places that are to be avoided, however, in my book I document many of the finer establishments where one can go to turn fantasy into reality in the blink of an eye (the majority of which are just a click away on the internet). Go explore your inner desires you’ll be surprised at just how elated and revitalized you’ll feel. For the ladies reading this I strongly recommend you get the man or men in your life to have a sneaky read, their reactions may just surprise you! (at the very least a trip to Paris should be on your wish list)

The following excerpt is one of that will give you a flavor of the book, and an insight into one of the numerous elegant but highly decadent situations I was party to!

Recently, my favoured pastime is when I’m alone at our place in Spain I venture the ten minute walk to the local nude/fun beach and get naked and just see what potential situations develop in the heat! I’m always happy when a young “senor” or two park themselves nearby. That when my exhibitionist streak really explodes!

Chapter Twenty-Five: You May Go To The Ball!

Finally, my much anticipated weekend trip had arrived, and after a lot of careful preparation and packing (still confused by the “Party Clothes statement in the Email), Paul dropped me at the Air France Terminal, where I duly collected my ticket and was escorted to their First Class Departure Lounge. I was welcomed with a glass of Bucks Fizz and offered a selection of mouth-watering canapés! You certainly got a massively different level of service in First Class, for a start back then, the Captain came and had a chat before “take off” and enquired if all was to your satisfaction…. I politely replied, “yes thank you” even though I felt like grabbing him and whisking him of somewhere quiet for some pre-flight fun!!

At CDG a member of Air France collected my luggage and escorted me to the First Class pick up area, where Bruno was waiting beside the car, after greeting me once again by doffing his cap and showing me into the rear of waiting of the Mercedes, he took my luggage from the member of staff and subtly tipped him, before stowing it in the boot and driving off towards Central Paris.

After helping myself to a glass of wine from the mini bar things started to become clearer when Bruno informed me, that we were first going shopping for my outfit for Saturday night, and that The “Général” had given him detailed instructions and I should just sit back and relax. A glass and a half later, we pulled up out side the “Dior” Flagship Boutique on Avenue Montaigne. Immediately, I was helped from the car by the uniformed doorman, and once inside, was handed over to a charming lady, whom it turned out, was a director of their couture division. I was shown swiftly to a private dressing room, with an elegant seating area, where she explained that she was tasked with recommending and presenting me with a variety of gowns and accessories, and to pick which ever one I liked the best, and then after any final adjustments, she would help me accessorize, with shoes, lingerie and anything else that took my fancy… I was speechless, as I imagined the dress alone would cost a small fortune. After a good two hours I was done, and after a small glass of Kir Royale, was informed all the purchases would be delivered the following morning at ten thirty, to the given address…At least she had an address, I was still clueless!

Back in the car Bruno informed me that I’d be staying at an apartment that Yves owned, and had just finished having it refurbished. It was a few minutes away, on fashionable Rue Marbeuf and that the “Général” would telephone me shortly once he was out of his meeting. I was to relax and unwind until then and to help myself to anything I wanted.

It was a beautiful apartment, very elegantly furnished in traditional French style, not a large as Thierry’s, but equally elegant and impressive…not too shabby for a spare apartment in the Centre of Paris!

Across the street from the apartment I could see a traditional Café/Bar, so I decided to relax with a coffee and a snifter of brandy whilst I waited for Yves call with “further instructions!”. It was very busy inside, and was a lovely warm retreat from the late afternoon Paris chill. Eventually my mobile buzzed and vibrated on the table, it was Yves, and after a brief conversation he told me to be ready at eight-thirty, as we were going out for dinner, he said casual/chic, nothing too outrageous.

He took me to a lovely little restaurant, discreetly tucked away in a small street near the “Bastille”. Over dinner we chatted away like we’d known each other forever, he divulged very little about his past, but, however, told me he’d married in his mid twenties but his wife had died suddenly six years previously, due to his work they’d never had children. He had lived and travelled to many places on behalf of his government and was now just keeping busy in an advisory capacity.

He explained the following evenings agenda, which comprised of arriving between seven-thirty to eight for pre dinner drinks and generally meeting old and making new acquaintances. Dinner would be served at eight-thirty and the entertainment would follow, which had for the last few years been a “Slave Auction”, which he said had proved very popular amongst, as he put it “the good and the great and the often bad” of French Society. He wouldn’t tell me anymore, except that he was sure I’d enjoy it! He also had arranged for me to be visited at the apartment by a hair and makeup lady at five the following day in preparation of Bruno collecting me at six forty-five sharp. He also said he’d bring his mask of choice, for me to wear for the evening.

After a very enjoyable meal he dropped me back at the apartment and told me to get a good rest, as “tomorrow” would be a long night! I rang Paul, who was as intrigued as I; he said he wished he could be a fly on the wall!

As promised, my outfit was delivered promptly, I marveled at these exquisite items for what felt like an eternity, before going out for a wander around the local area.

The excitement and anticipation of the forthcoming evening was making me very horny, and continued to throughout the day. Whilst I was out casually perusing the shops, I stopped off for a drink and in my state of arousal I discreetly exposed my pussy to a guy sitting at a table directly opposite me in the busy bar, I could tell it was driving him to distraction but as he was with his partner, he was powerless to respond…naughty I know! But having a quick climax in front of a helpless stranger was a huge turn on…a game that over the years I have played many times to some fantastic responses! More of these later.

After my makeover and help getting dressed it was soon time to leave, precisely on time Bruno buzzed me down to the waiting car, where Yves was waiting, with once more a red rose and glass of Champagne plus my mask for the evening. It was a beautiful genuine Venetian black & cream Harlequin shaped half Mask, just the feel of it made me warm and tingly.

We settled back and relaxed as the Chateau was about a thirty minute drive, I told him I’d been horny all day and this pleased him a great deal and I could sense he was really looking forward to my reaction to what lay ahead.

The driveway up to this massive old French house was at least a mile long, which eventually led to a semi circular dropping off point and a line of elegant limousines, all patiently waiting to deliver their high profile occupants. Yves explained this event was for the wives only, and that the mistresses would be compensated later, by way of extra Xmas gifts or an increase in their allowance! Only the French! I thought grinning to myself.

Eventually, after having my coat taken and Yves standing back and clasping his hands in admiration at the stunning Dior gown, whispering “you are simply divine my dear”, we were escorted through to a beautiful library room that was full of gorgeous antique furniture and stunning large works of art, it was like standing on a movies set, there were male and female waiters gliding discreetly everywhere, with ornate trays of Champagne and Canapé’s at the ready. There were some stunning evening gowns on show, and all the men were all dressed in tuxedos and many medals were being proudly worn.

 It seemed everyone knew Yves and were waiting their turn to greet him. I played along perfectly each time, as he introduced me as the “Daughter!” of an old British friend, whom he’d worked with in Hong Kong in the Seventies. Each time, he would subtly wink at me…. how I kept this elegant façade going, I’ll never know. Even with their Masks on, I could tell that many of the ladies were fifties upwards and were discreetly giving this “thirty” something the once over…. I could certainly feel a degree of envy from behind the masks.

Once all the guests had arrived I did a rough headcount and estimated there were around fifty or sixty couples present. After a while the large double wooden doors opened and a footman announced that, dinner would be served. Then with a commanding voice he commenced announcing couples by name, whom, when walked forward were escorted to their table. We were the last to be announced as Yves was on the “top table” with our host and hostess and two other distinguished couples (I thought I recognized one couples name…but basically I didn’t have a clue, as to how high up the social ladder they were…. but very near the top I suspected).

It was all very highbrow and elegant, with a classical string quartet playing in the corner of the large ballroom, but with a distinct under current of sexual tension.

Discreetly placed with each of the ladies place setting, was a small booklet, which was highlighting the male and female “slaves”, that were to be auctioned later during the evening! During dinner, apparently the ladies would make their choice and their husbands would do the bidding. Yves informed me that, as last year, there were five male and two female “lots”, so expected he the bidding to be fierce. If successful you would have forty-five minutes alone with your purchase in one of the prescribed private fun rooms on the first floor, after that they would be joining the guests in the large Arabian Nights themed room, decorated for the occasion. All very civilized! He told me that the males were hired for the oral skills, as well as their very impressive endowments and the ladies for their beauty and enthusiasm (and acting ability he told me with a smile!).

Thankfully, when the food was served everyone followed the hostess’s lead and removed their masks; it gave everyone a chance to have a good look at their fellow guests; smiles and little regal waves passed between the tables. It was all very surreal.

The food was out of this world, the main course being a whole baby roast suckling pig per table, with a selection of local grown vegetables, for dessert crepes were flambéed to spectacular effect. The fine wines and Champagnes had been flowing abundantly and things were starting to “buzz” in anticipation of the auction.

Yves asked me if we should make a bid on any of the “lots”, I said I’d leave that up to him, but I wouldn’t be adverse to it if he did.

After dinner wines and or spirits were served, and as the chandeliers dimmed the stage was lit, to rumblings of anticipation from this normally, I suspected, reserved congregation.

The first “slave” up for bidding, was a very tall and slim girl with jet black hair who was led on to the stage with a chain attached to her “slut collar”, she wore a long sheer gown with heels so high she towered over the auctioneer…. as Yves predicted bidding was rapid and she was eventually secured by a couple seated near to our table, accompanied by much merriment and polite applause. The winning bid was thirty thousand Francs!! I was bemused by the decadence of it!

The first male “slave” was finally sold to another couple for twenty five thousand Francs. He was led on, to much “oohing” and “aaahing” from the ladies, he was wearing a very skimpy loincloth, which left nothing to the imagination. All the “lots” were sold for between twenty and thirty five thousand Francs.

The final “slave” was led on to gasps from everyone, he was a very muscular, mixed race man with a beautiful smile and quite simply the largest penis I’d ever seen anywhere…. and I’d seen a few by now!…. His body was glistening with oil, Yves gave me a playful squeeze on my knee under the table and whispered “ I will buy him for you .… yes?”, I picked my jaw up off the floor and just discreetly nodded my interest.

We followed the bidding with interest, as many of the gentlemen had been firmly instructed by their wives to bid, astonishingly the bidding soon reached fifty thousand Francs, when it looked like he’d been sold, Yves, with a subtle tipping of his glass trumped the room, with a massive and mindboggling “one hundred thousand Francs”, the room was on its feet, clapping, whistling and shouting “Bravo Général Bravo”. All eyes were now focused on me…I was flushed with embarrassment and a large degree of apprehension at the unfolding events. People now started to mingle and some went off to the “smoking rooms”. Also all the ladies were in the powder rooms freshening up and reapplying their “Masks”, as was the etiquette that was strictly adhered to! Many of the ladies congratulated me on my prize and wished me a wonderful liaison! It all made a bit more sense, when Yves explained that all the money raised during the auction, plus the large contributions from all the other guests was donated to the Parisian equivalent of “The Army Widows Fund”.

After a short while, Yves told me my “slave” had been prepared and was waiting for me and that I should go and enjoy myself. He explained that he’d be watching, along with the host and hostess in an adjoining room, which had the viewing side of the two-way mirror that was in the boudoir… My emotions were already in turmoil, but now heightened with the added pressure of a small, but distinguished audience to play up to!

I unlocked the door to the room with the large brass key Yves had given me, and entered apprehensively, and there, spread-eagled and restrained to the large four poster bed was my prize. Lying there at my mercy was this gorgeous man, with the beginnings of the most enormous, gargantuan erection. I quickly realized that no words would be spoken, no small talk, just simple animal passion. I smiled and slowly and provocatively started to remove my gown, all the time fully aware of unseen eyes watching my every movement. By the time I’d carefully placed my gown over the large wingback chair in the corner. I saw with glee, that my undressing had given him the most colossal and pulsating erection, his body was completely hairless and very well toned. I wanted to prolong this moment of sheer expectation, we both so obviously felt. So, I started to gently stroke and play with my breasts, showing him my hard erect nipples, swiftly, my vaginal muscles started to rapidly flex and contract as I reached my first small orgasm. He moaned appreciatively as I discarded my small-embroidered silk panties and stood before him solely in a pair of silk hold-ups and my black patent heels, his beast of a penis flexed and twitched with appreciation of my body. I approached the foot of the bed, stood and stared at his body for a good minute, whilst suggestively licking my lips. I slowly crawled forward onto the bed running, slowly my tongue over each of his legs, making my way to his wondrous, muscular brown thighs, gently biting and licking them in turn, all the time with my eyes watching his huge abnormal penis throbbing angrily. I eventually couldn’t tease him any longer and began to slowly run my tongue up and over his swollen testicles, taking each one in turn into my mouth, he was quietly moaning, as I pleasured his engorged sac, I then paid rapt attention to his shaft, teasingly running my tongue up its entire length, whilst staring intently into his smoldering black eyes, until I reached its bulbous head, flicking at it like a lizard. Then with my eager, willing mouth took him in, slowly at first, allowing my mouth and lips to adjust to its size. Then inch by inch I took him to the back of my throat, as his hips started to buck rhythmically, he began to powerfully fuck my mouth, his sheer size was restricting my breathing…that coupled, with an explosive orgasm on my part, squirting my juices everywhere, I needed a breather. I knelt up and straddled his chest whilst gulping a few lung fulls of much needed oxygen. I opened my pussy wide with my fingers for him to see and started to play with my swollen clitoris as he watched intently. I brought myself to another series of powerful spurting climaxes, soaking his chest; the aroma of my juices and his body oil was completely intoxicating. He gestured with his eyes that he wanted to taste me, I moved forward and lowered my wet pussy onto his face, where his tongue immediately went to work skillfully on my lips, nibbling and sucking on my clitoris, occasionally probing my anus, much to my delight… his technique was both skilled and enthusiastic, I could sense he was fully enjoying my taste, and with my body starting to go into spasm, I powerfully gushed another orgasm into his very receptive mouth, he drank my juices keenly, we were both groaning with the intense pleasure that we were giving each other. It was now time to fuck this man, I slowly moved down his body until my vagina has hovering over his gargantuan, pumped erect cock…all the time hoping, Yves and his guests were enjoying the spectacle as much as I. With one hand I guided the huge head of his penis into my wet and open vagina, hesitantly at first whilst my opening gradually stretched to accommodate his monstrous girth, slowly I continued lowering myself, until I could take no more of him…god he was enormous. I settled for a moment to regain my composure, and then began slowly and rhythmically riding up and down his length, my vaginal muscles gripping him with such intensity, I felt as if my orgasms would go on and on. I increased the rigorousness of my movements over time, until he started to breathe heavily, groaning as my internal muscles worked his cock to the point of no return…. with a huge shudder I could feel his semen explode into the depths of vagina, filling me, as my muscles milked him ferociously until he was spent!! I collapsed exhausted and overflowing onto his chest. I lay there savouring the moment, until it was time to release him from his restraints (Velcro is wonderful thing!). I went into the en-suite to tidy myself up, cleansing myself on the wonderful cushioned bidet. My drained lover, with a smile helped me into my dress to resume the evening!

Yves was waiting for me when I exited the room, he was grinning from ear to ear, complimenting me on such a wondrously decadent exhibition, he informed me that the hostess was playing with herself throughout, and that her husband had given her permission to go and play with him herself, now that he’d been released from his “Slave status”, he was now free to party and entertain the various needy ladies! Before he did he thanked me and complimented me on my dexterity!

I gratefully accepted a large crystal tumbler of Jack Daniels on the rocks that Yves had commandeered for me, and took it to one of the elegant smoking rooms, for a much needed and well-deserved cigarette. The host joined us; he was very complimentary on my unreserved exhibitionistic behavior, as he said, that any English people he’d met were very reserved and cold… I explained to him that there was a small select group of us that had firmly cast off the old “British Reserve”, but you had to know where to look to find them!! This amused him greatly and he asked if I’d allow him to give me a tour around his private wine collection in the cellar, as he’d like to choose me bottle of something special, as a memento of the evening. Yves nodded his approval (I felt sure they’d discussed it already). After finishing my drink and another cigarette, he led me through the immense kitchen to a vaulted doorway, he tapped in a code and the door unlocked; we entered down a marble stairway into a vast cavernous cellar with floor to ceiling racks full of wine, as far as I could see…row after row! He gave me a brief tour and potted history of some of the vintages, when we reached the Champagne he selected a stunningly beautiful bottle of Perrier Jouet Belle Epoque Magnum 1990 Vintage Champagne as my gift. At the far end of the cellar was an elegant air-conditioned “tasting” lounge, where he suggested that we had a brandy and a cigarette, which I readily agreed to. We both removed our masks and I settled back into a sumptuous armchair, whilst he selected and poured a fine smooth Cognac, it was divine and I was savoured its rich oaky taste. He asked me, where I’d learned to achieve the intense orgasms he’d witnessed earlier, so I proceeded to recount in great detail the story of how Michael had turned my “tap” on several years ago, and that I could now control and achieve them at will in almost any situation. His face lit up, I could sense, he was enjoying my openness, as there was a very mischievous little sparkle in this elderly French aristocrats eyes! In his near perfect English he expressed his interest, that as we were alone and nobody could interrupt us, that it would be a great pleasure for him, if I would give him an intimate, personal demonstration of this rare skill. He said that he would be highly honoured, if I’d allow him to drink my juices as I climaxed. He quickly informed me that he’d got Yves blessing, however, the ultimate decision was mine. I admit I was massively aroused by the thought of this scenario and eagerly nodded in agreement. I asked him to help me out of my dress, which he carefully hung on a coat stand in the corner. I then instructed him to kneel in front of me and remove my rapidly dampening panties. I was once again naked, except for my heels and hold-ups. I lifted and placed one leg up on the arm of the chair and invited him to open me and closely inspect my pussy. I was rapidly juicing up with the whole scenario. I sensuously placed myself back in the armchair and lewdly opened my legs as wide as possible, letting them drape over its soft cushioned arms. He was transfixed, as I went to work with my fingers, opening my labia ever wider whilst tweaking my clitoris, I told him to lean in closer and see how my vaginal muscles flexed and gripped under my control. I invited him to lick my anus whilst I held myself open for him, he accepted his task with great relish and started to gently run his tongue around my precious bud in deft circles and probing it deeply inside, making my sphincter spasm and pucker uncontrollably. It was a very erotic scene looking down at this beautifully dressed gentleman feasting on my most private of places, it wasn’t long before I could feel myself building up to an intense climax, I verbally signaled my intentions, and as he knelt before me like a hungry child with his mouth wide open, I let go a powerful orgasm and squirted jet after jet of my hot sweet juices into his waiting mouth and over his ecstatic face. I just continued pulsing and squirting, drowning him in my juices.  Eventually I was a spent force and decadently told him, to lick me clean, whilst I enjoyed the rest of my Cognac…, which he did with boundless enthusiasm!

I rejoined Yves in the Library for a final drink, before Bruno was scheduled to pick us up, he told me many of the guests were enjoying themselves in the Arabian nights room, where the young, and now free slaves were entertaining various guests and generally ensuring the eroticism of the evening continued. Shortly, our ride arrived and we bade our farewells to our hosts, and with “my gift” in hand, slid into the rear of the waiting limousine.

After thanking Yves for such a wonderful and very eye opening evening, and giving him a gracious peck goodnight, I made my way up to the apartment, where after undressing, I collapsed into the large comfortable bed and drifted off into a long restful sleep.

As arranged, the following day Yves picked me up and we went for a long leisurely lunch before my evening flight back to Heathrow, to an excited Paul, who’d want to hear all about my exploits in minute detail. To be honest, I was really looking forward to the comforts of my own environment and just enjoy a few hours of “slobbing out” in sweat pants and t-shirt, after all the exertions of the previous couple of days had exhausted me. Followed by a long, slow soak in the bath and even slower lovemaking session with Paul…complete with commentary by myself for his delectation!

About Emma Styles:
My name is Emma Styles. I am a married mother of two. I currently live between Kew, West London and Southern Spain. I have just completed my first book “First Tango In Paris”, which is a true-life account of my sexual experiences and adventures since stumbling into the very elegant but incredibly decadent and hedonistic Parisian swinging scene. The book documents intimately and often graphically many of the more salacious and debauched encounters over a ten-year period, whilst also portraying how I juggled the more predictable side of family/working life with my quest for even greater sexual escapades.

1 comment:

  1. I completely understand where you are coming from when you talked about being inspired after you moved. Even though I always loved China (Chinese history was a focus in college and I studied Chinese language), it wasn't until I moved there that I found the inspiration to start setting my stories in China. I also think living abroad can be a very freeing experience, not just sexually, but to get out of the norm and break free to do whatever it is you really want to do. More people should try living abroad for at least a short period, and I don't mean just vacation, but really live in a foreign place. It will always change your life.