Three’s Company


If you walk down any Parisian boulevard and inadvertently stumble across a movie theater, you will, without a doubt, see a poster for Gaspar Noé’s Love, yet another explicit French “love story” meant to celebrate mildly disturbing sexual encounters between barely post-pubescent pretty young things. This time, the French had truly outdone themselves, throwing a 3D component, a transsexual encounter, and a threesome into the mix.

It was the latter that caught my attention, as threesomes really seem to be having a moment in Paris. Over the past year alone, I have been approached by two separate women in Silencio, nonchalantly proposing me to accompany them and their significant other “chez eux”, offers I passed on due to my embarrassingly puritanical tendencies. In any case, it appears that most of the city is down to jump into bed together at a moment’s notice for a nice casual ménage a trois. While I normally tend to shy away from sexual recounts altogether, I coincidentally happened to receive a story from a reader that touched upon this very topic, allowing us to explore the question du jour – are the French really are as risqué as they appear?

My reader, a lovely Danish girl whom we will call Freja, recently got transferred to Paris for work. Upon arrival, she met a Bretagne-bred male model, and they immediacy embarked upon a very interesting sexual relationship that helped her open up entire new dimensions that she had never imagined to exist. A threesome seemed like a natural progression, and an interesting addition to their already vast bedroom portfolio.

On one night, Freja and her man candy were hanging out in a bar in Pigalle, when they met a girl who appeared to be an excellent contender for this endeavor. She had a slight butter face, yet an exceptionally hot body, and she oh-so-casually happened to mention that she occasionally enjoys joining in on couples’ intimate activities as the guest star (how this conversation comes about, I don’t ask). Freja and this young Charlotte Gainsbourg circa Nymphomaniac exchanged information and began casually chatting. During these exchanges, Charlotte confirmed her interest by sending Freja regular nude selfies and close-ups of different body parts, all of which seemed to allude to only one thing: she was hot n’ heavy for some action.

The model’s birthday was approaching, and Freja, clearly being a very generous individual, decided to organize him an evening to remember. She coordinated with the girl, purchased two bottles of Patrón for the occasion, and told her man that a truly good surprise awaited. He arrived to her apartment around 9pm that evening, they had a light dinner and began working their way through the first bottle of tequila. By the time Charlotte arrived at 11, the couple was relaxed and tipsy, perfectly ready for whatever the night had in store for them. Apparently, they were the only ones. Charlotte, the same Charlotte of an X-rated selfie collection to rival a Hollywood starlet’s, arrived looking nervous, reserved, and generally rather standoffish. Assuming that she simply needed to relax, Freja poured her a drink and they began chatting. An hour later, Charlotte was still sitting there on the couch in her Stan Smiths, making small talk over her first drink. Freja began thinking that it had all been a giant misunderstanding – where was the deviant French vixen she had expected, with her dirty text messages and liberated sexual desire? After exhausting every conversation topic possible, Charlotte and Freja finally, tentatively, started making out. The model quickly joined in, and all of a sudden, it was happening – the grand event was about to go live! It was quite an exciting moment – think July heat wave, lots of tequila, a French model and a hot-bodied nympho French girl… Certainly something you remember with a smile on your face in your nursing home 50 years from now..

Alas, no. Right as it was about to get real, Charlotte stopped, pushed both of them away, and announced that she had to go home. She scurried around the apartment, collected her Stan Smiths and other parts of her normcore outfit, and jetted out of there faster than wind could carry her. Freja was left feeling drunk and confused, the model was left feeling blue-balled, yet very appreciative of Freja’s efforts. He told her that this had been the exact representation of French ladies in the sack – lovely to look at, yet no passion or desire to actually tantalize the senses. In fact, apparently they don’t deem it necessary to make much of an effort whatsoever (come think, practically applying their sartorial strategy to the bedroom!)

The next day, Freja received a text message from Charlotte with a long, detailed explanation. It turned out that, while she had been extremely turned on by the entire encounter, she had decided to stop it on time, as otherwise it would have – wait for it – made her feel bad the next day. Not only did she not know the couple well enough, but what she was looking for was more than just a casual threesome – she wanted a threesome relationship, an affair, the real deal. (Basically, she was just yet another chick looking for stability.) As a kicker, she then added, verbatim: “We always have a Devil and an Angel on our shoulders, and for once the Angel won this battle. Y

up, the girl of the nude selfie collection and threesome fetish, had suddenly decided to emotionally protect herself and let her inner Angel dictate the course of her battle with the deviant forces. And this is how we learned that French women are just as great in terms of follow-through as the men, if not more so. In fact, I propose that “All talk, no action” should just replace “Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité” as the national motto!

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