Law Enforcement

Just before we reached the square, I saw someone wearing uniform walking towards her. My concern was short lived, when he stopped at a parked car, checking its windscreen and then issuing a ticket. He gave Sophie an interested look, but nothing more.

In the square, Sophie joined a queue to buy an ice cream at a glaconiere. She had money in her shoulder bag, waited in line, ordered her cone, and paid for it, just like any of the other customers. Then she found a seat on a stone slab bench under a tree, and ate the ice cream. There was a shortage of seating, and she had had to take an end of the slab, beside a couple in their twenties. The girl seemed to find Sophie's nakedness uncomfortable, because she suggested to the guy that they moved on. Within seconds Sophie had a middle aged couple sitting beside her, and to my surprise she was soon chatting with them as she ate her cone.

A little further on, Sophie paused to watch children riding on a beautiful old merry-go-round. The man running it jokingly offered her a ride, but to my disappointment she declined. I had been taking some photographs, and one of her sitting on a merry-go-round horse would have been superb. Instead, Sophie went around the merry-go-round, then into the square at the Palais du Papes. There she took her camera from her bag and took some photographs of the old stone building.

Meanwhile a number of tourists were taking hers, including a guy with a serious lens on his camera, around four inches in diameter and eight inches long, that I guessed was a high powered zoom. He even asked Sophie to pose, squatting down to take a shot of her standing in front of the Palais. I joined him, and got the same shot, which is framed and in our bedroom. Exactly what other shots the other guy got while he was squatting low, I can only guess, but I know the view I had of Sophie's hairless pussy, and the ring that she wears there, and I heard his camera clicking at least half a dozen times as he adjusted the zoom.

The steps up to the cathedral entrance are on the right and are pretty steep, but Sophie did not use them, presumably not wanting to risk people being offended at her being naked quite so close to a place of worship. Instead she went straight on, where another set of steps lead to the gardens. That was when I turned back, knowing it would take me at least half an hour to get back to the van and drive round to the other car park.

I was right. What with the walk back, and the traffic, it was forty minutes before I got to the car park. From where I had left Sophie it was tend minutes to walk through the gardens and down the steps to meet me. I would not have expected her to wait in the car park, but when she had not arrived after I had been sitting for ten minutes I began to be concerned.

My leaving the camper van to go and look for my wife was not really an option. A sign warned that vehicles could be clamped. I sat it out a little longer, then saw a police car drive into the car park and park in a bay preserved for the gendarmerie. That was all we needed. I should not have been waiting there, and the police might decide to ask me to move. Sophie, meanwhile, would hardly risk coming down to the van while they were there.

My worst fear was realised. One of the gendarmes got out of the car and started walking towards me while his colleague stood leaning casually against the passenger door of their car.

At least the gendarme spoke English. He asked for my passport and driving licence, and I gave them to him. He checked them, taking his time and looking smug as he thumbed through the passport and looked at my credit card style driving licence. Then he asked if I was expecting my wife there. I said I was. He then advised me that I should be more careful what I allowed her to do, and said they had had to ask her to come into their car. It was not acceptable to be naked in a French city such as Avignon. They decided just to give my wife a warning, but we should be more careful. Then he asked if I had some clothes that my wife could wear.

I took Sophie's shorts and tee shirt from my back pack, and gave them to the gendarme. He walked back to the car. His colleague opened the rear door, and the officer handed the clothes inside. A minute later Sophie climbed out, still barefoot. The gendarmes spoke to her, then let her walk over to the camper van.

Sophie climbed in. She seemed fine, if a little nervous, and I started the engine, driving out before the gendarmes decided to do anything more. Then I asked her if she was okay.

Sophie moved closer to me in the passenger seat, put her hand on my leg, and said that she was fine. Then she asked if I could find somewhere I could fuck her, as soon as possible.

I got out of the city, into the countryside, took a side road away from the river, found an entrance to a field, and parked. We climbed out, and I grabbed the picnic rug from the back of the van. Sophie was already naked, waiting. I spread out the rug, and Sophie knelt on all fours. Her pussy was glistening wet and ready to be fucked. Within seconds I was naked and fucking her from behind. Within a minute, she was coming, and collapsing onto her front.

I had not come. I turned Sophie over, and she opened her legs for me. I moved between her legs, sank my cock deep into her, and started fucking her again. She was staring up at me. I lowered myself to my elbows and kissed her. Ironically, they call it a French kiss. Both of us were turned on and tonguing each other's mouths, and that was when I tasted it. My wife's mouth tasted of semen. I knew the taste, because I had tasted my own from the same beautiful lips after she had sucked me off in the past. But this was not my own semen that I was tasting.

As soon as I recognised the taste, I stop fucking my wife and asked her what had happened.

She told me.

They had been in the garden. Sophie had walked to where a railing provided a view over the river, and had been enjoying the view, waiting for me to arrive, when they had approached her. After questioning her, they had walked her down to their car, which had been in the car park. One of them had sat with her in the back, and the other had driven.

At first she had been concerned that they were taking her to the gendarmerie. The gendarme in the back had told her she had been committing an offence, and could be in court the following week. Sophie had apologised, and told them that I had been due to pick her up. That was when they had parked in a small enclosed grassy area by the river.

It was the gendarme in the front who had said that in her case things were quite serious. It was not a simple case of exposing herself. Since she wore a ring through her 'chat', the charge would be more serious, and she should expect the magistrate to be more severe.

He had given her time to think about this before adding that they could consider letting her off with a warning, but she would need to give them a reason to do so. It had taken a moment for her to realise what he meant. Then the gendarme in the back with her had unzipped himself, had taken out his cock, and had used his hand to guide her head down to his lap. Sophie knew what was expected, and that was what she had done.

I asked about the other gendarme, whether he had asked for the same.

Then I listened to my wife telling me that the second gendarme had got into the back seat of the car while she still sucking on the first one's cock. Instinctively, she had started to sit up, but the first officer was holding her head with his hand.

When the second officer had started fondling her pussy, there was little she could do but let him.

He began by fingering her, then used his thumb to go as deep as he could. After making sure that she was wet for him, he had used his cock. It was only when she felt the head stretch her as he entered her that she realised exactly what was happening. With one cock in her mouth, and another in her pussy, she was being double penetrated, her first and only time,in the back of a French police car.

I knew what the answers to my next questions would be, but I asked them anyway.

No, neither of them had worn any protection. Yes, the gendarme who had been fucking her had come inside her, and yes, he had made her come. Yes, the other gendarme had come in her mouth. But then I knew that already. I had tasted him.

It was, I guess a lesson learned.

If you take risks with social norms, you can end up paying the penalty.

Sophie had paid for her exhibitionism. I had paid for enjoying the three weeks before Avignon. A gendarme had fucked my wife. There was not much that I could do about it. It was not something you could walk into a gendarmerie and complain about. I realised that as soon as Sophie told me what had happened.

I needed to know, so I asked Sophie which of them had come across to the camper van to check my identity. She hesitated, and then told me that it had been the one who had fucked her. I could still picture him, thumbing my passport, a smirk on his face. He must have really enjoyed that, playing the officious police officer with the English tourist whose wife he had just fucked, and then sending her back to me with his come still inside her, knowing there would be absolutely nothing that I would be able to do about it.

I did the only thing I could. Sophie had told me what had happened while I was still between her legs, resting my body weight on my elbows, with my cock still hard and still inside her. Neither the taste of one gendarme's semen nor the knowledge that the other had come inside my wife had made my erection any less rigid. If anything I was even harder than before. So once Sophie had finished telling me what had taken place, I went back to fucking her in that field outside Avignon, even knowing another man's semen was part of the reason that she had been so wet for me.

That almost ends the story. Almost, but not quite.

The next day we had a quiet day beside a different river, sunbathing naked at a quiet spot. When it was time to go, Sophie did not get dressed. She walked back to the camper van still naked, and then rode naked in the passenger seat as we drove on.

The following day it was time to head north back towards Calais for our ferry to England. We decided to avoid the autoroute, and enjoy a more scenic route. At one point we needed diesel, and Sophie said that she would do it. She filled our tank, and paid, totally naked, taking the risk in spite of what had happened back in Avignon.

Later, the road we were using was a wide straight road, and I eased the camper van up to seventy miles an hour, fine on the autoroute, but faster than permitted on a normal road. A moment later we heard a siren, and a gendarme motor cyclist was overtaking us and getting me to stop. It was obviously a known stretch of road for drivers to speed, and he had been waiting.

Catching speeding tourist speeding seems to be one of the perks of the job for French gendarmes. Fines are paid in cash, and they do not always give receipts. I was reaching for my wallet, when Sophie asked if I would like her to pay. It took just a moment to realise what she meant. I left the wallet where it was.

Hearing Sophie tell me about the two gendarmes in Avignon was. In retrospect, a highlight of our holiday. Watching her get out of our camper van and lean, facing me, against the front of our camper van as the gendarme dismounted from his motor cycle was something else again.

There was no need for him to say anything. What my wife was offering the gendarme was obvious. He moved behind her, and unzipped his riding breeches. Watching that gendarme fucking my beautiful wife will remain with me for ever.

As far as I know, those two occasions, just two days apart, and both with gendarmes, are the only times that Sophie had been with any other man since we met, let alone since we were married. Under the circumstances, I do not hold it against her. Neither of us anticipated the outcome of what we saw as innocent fun. Indeed it was some time later that we were faced with the full consequences of Sophie's flaunting herself in France, and decided to accept them.

Not that we have any regrets. It still turns us on thinking about what happened on that holiday, or talking about it. If you do not take risks, life can be pretty boring.

It was five years before we went back to Avignon. We were still using naturist beaches and camp sites, but Sophie was no longer risking baring all in more public areas. She wore a dress as we walked through the shopping street down to the Palais du Papes.

We bought ice creams. Four year olds love ice cream. They also love to ride on the merry-go-round, and laugh deliriously as they go up and down and around and around and around.