Judith asked me to drive her home after work. Her penthouse overlooked Neuilly’s glittering skyline, a sleek tower piercing the Paris haze. I parked in the private underground garage, the Bentley’s leather seats still warm against my thighs. Before the engine died, she whispered, ‘Come up for a drink.’ Early evening. No one waiting. Her smile pulled me in—those deep eyes promising more than friendship. I nodded.
We rode the private elevator to the second-floor penthouse. Silent. Her hand brushed mine. She unlocked the door, took my worn green coat, draped it over a marble console. ‘Sit,’ she said, guiding me to the low leather sofa, butter-soft under my palms, facing floor-to-ceiling windows framing the Seine’s twilight shimmer.
The Privilege
‘What will it be?’ Her voice velvet. ‘Whisky, surely.’ Complicit grin. I agreed. She vanished into the kitchen. Alone, I traced the room: crystal decanters, abstract art, her scent lingering—jasmine and power.
She returned, handed me the glass. Single malt, smoky peat on my tongue, ice clinking like secrets. ‘Make yourself comfortable. Jacket off.’ I complied. Silence thickened. She knew my desire. Tension hummed. I thought to leave. Then, ‘I’ll change. Be right back.’ Soft jazz filled the air—Miles Davis, saxophone curling like smoke. Dim lights glowed. Envoûté. I stood at the window, city lights winking conspiratorially.
‘Close your eyes. Surprise.’ Her voice. Heart raced. Obeyed. Footsteps on polished parquet. She took my glass, set it down. Silence. Then lips—hers—on mine. Soft. Electric. Arms around my shoulders, strong yet tender. Tongues met, wet heat unfolding. I opened my eyes. Judith. Angelic face framed by raven hair, full lips, endless eyes. Slim waist, sculpted legs, perfect breasts straining her silk robe, parted just enough to tease flawless skin.
‘Breathtaking,’ I murmured. ‘I want you.’ She pulled me close. Kiss deepened, devouring. Hands roamed her shoulders, back, the curve of her ass. Each stroke drew hip rolls from her. Heat built, urgent.
The Excess
‘Come.’ Hand in mine, she led to the bedroom. King bed draped in Egyptian cotton, volets filtering Eiffel glow. ‘Let me.’ Fingers undid my tie, shirt buttons. Kissed endlessly, her mouth honeyed whisky. I kicked off shoes. She knelt, belt undone, pants dropped. Hands cupped my bulge through silk boxers. Freed me. Stroked slow, firm. Groan escaped. Then her mouth—hot, wet—engulfed me. Tongue swirled the head, throat took me deep. Hands in her hair, I fought release.
Pushed her up. Untied robe. It pooled. Breasts magnificent—heavy, firm, dark thick nipples. Bush trimmed, inviting. She shoved me onto silk sheets. On her back, thighs wide. ‘Fuck me now.’ Wet, tight entry. Vagina gripped like velvet vice. Still, savoring crush of her flesh, tits against chest. ‘I love you.’ ‘I love you.’ Legs up, knees to shoulders. ‘Pound me. Cum inside.’ Thrusts savage, deep. She screamed, ‘I love you!’ I exploded, flooding her core.
Withdrew. Eyes half-lidded, she panted. Kneaded her tits, sucked nipples. She moaned, fingers circling clit. Head between thighs, tongue lapped her swollen folds. Clit throbbed. She pinched breasts hard, body arched. Came howling, gushing to my mouth. Exquisite collapse.
Cuddled. Then she gripped me, deep-throated with firm strokes. Revived. On knees, ass up, hair cascading. Entered her pussy doggy, hips slamming. She bucked. Pulled out, aimed higher. Anus slick. Pushed in—tight ring yielded. Cried out. Slow then fierce. She rubbed clit, tits dragging sheets. Exploded again, anal orgasm ripping her. Muscles clenched; I hammered, erupting deep in her ass, jets thick and endless.
Entwined, lips fused. Penthouse walls of glass sealed our secret, city blind below.
