I arrive early at the Paris penthouse, last floor overlooking the Seine’s shimmer. No neighbors, just endless skyline from the vast balcony. TGV on time, I text Marc, get redirected to Sylvie. Her breathless voice: jogging, didn’t expect me yet. We meet curbside. She’s mid-thirties, brunette waves, blue-green eyes, 1.70m toned in running shorts and sports bra, skin glistening sweat.
She leads me up. Elevator hums smooth. Door swings to luminous space: polished oak floors, cream leather sofas, floor-to-ceiling glass flooding light. Kitchen gleams marble, bedrooms down the hall, bathroom opposite. Balcony wraps around, city at our feet. She tours quick, vanishes to shower. I settle in my room, laptop open on the walnut desk, but water rushes opposite, her silhouette haunts. Steam fogs my focus.
The Privilege
She emerges in white robe, pauses at my door: ‘Bathroom free.’ Her running gear litters the tiles. I strip, fold clothes on the washer, step under jets. Soap lathers, mind on her curves. Knock. She enters, towel in hand. Shower curtain veils semi-opaque. I glimpse outline as she bends, places it, exits. Pulse races. I towel off, cross hall naked but for wrap, clothes bundled. She passes from her room in fitted jeans, silk blouse hugging form. Eyes lock, her gaze lingers low.
Marc arrives 19:30, kisses her deep. Suits me up, chats work, life. They offer dinner; I decline politely, keys in hand, dine nearby bistro. Back 21:00, they’re couch-bound, TV glow on leather. Jetlag excuse sends me bed. Insomnia grips. Her jog, shower replay. Water runs again. Murmurs next door. Balcony air calls. Their curtain gaps: Sylvie in sheer negligee, kneeling, mouth devouring Marc’s cock. Full strokes, hand pumping base. She pivots, pussy on his face, sucks deeper as tongue dives.
Quick shift: she supine, he mounts raw, thrusts brutal. She bites quilt, stifles moans thinking me asleep. He pounds, collapses spent. I slip inside silent.
Morning: 7am coffee setup. Her summer dress flutters light. They rush out. Day meetings blur. Back 17:00, music pulses. Bathroom door ajar, shower roars, her dress and thong trail floor. I creep, crack my door. She emerges nude, towels slow: breasts firm, ass curved, thighs slick. Dries intimate folds deliberate. Enters room, dresses. I cough signal. She startles in white dress, offers drink. Salon chat: saunas, massages. Her eyes light: ‘I adore them.’ I offer skills. Hesitant, then yes.
The Excess
Hallway: her on bed, towel-draped ass, pink bikini top untied soon. Oil warms palms. Neck loosens, back arches under fingers. Unhook top free. No protest. Flanks, glutes knead deep, bikini bottoms shift. Legs part slight. Flip: face, décolleté, nipples peak under thumbs. Belly quivers, inner thighs tremble. Hour passes, her sighs deepen. Fingers brush sex, she yields soft.
Marc due soon. I halt, shower excuse. She beams thanks.
Evening out, mind ablaze. Return 21:30 quiet. Music throbs, moans echo. Door crack: Sylvie devours Marc savage, ass high, pussy exposed glistening. Mounts reverse, impales grinding. Four paws: he slams doggy, she screams ecstasy. He floods her pulsing.
Dawn: her in robe, coffee brews. Breakfast lingers. ‘Sleep well? Late night?’ Color drains, flushes. Smile shares knowing. Departure: ‘Return anytime. Pleasure.’ I will.
