That Thursday evening, I lounged on my king-sized bed in our Nantes penthouse. Silk sheets whispered against my skin. City lights twinkled beyond floor-to-ceiling windows. Tomorrow’s light schedule freed my mind. After champagne dinner with roommates Mathilde and Jérôme, I dove back into my novel, abandoned amid exams.
Nine PM. Quiet reigned in our marble-clad haven. Jérôme prepped for his night out. Mathilde crammed in her room for her final test. Fifteen minutes into reading, her voice pierced the wall. Annoyed, I rose, padded to her door—ajar. Water rushed in the bathroom. Jérôme showered. Frosted glass glowed.
The Privilege
She needed revision help. I feigned focus. Three minutes later, I admitted defeat. Closed her door. Hallway steamy. Bathroom window open. Hot mist curled out. Jérôme had drawn the curtain, turning it hammam-like. He faced the mirror, three-quarters back. Unaware. I crept closer. Tip-toed.
Jérôme: childhood friend of Mathilde, our third since fall. Reserved. Doubting eyes in a hulking frame. Five centimeters taller, shoulders broad as a god’s. Naked. Completely. Steam kept him bare. His back rippled. Ass smooth, firm—hairless globes begging my palms. Thighs thick, silky. Calves furred lightly. Pure, virile nudity.
My cock stirred. Hardened in my boxer briefs. I backed away. Regret heavy. Back to bed. Book open. Useless. Couldn’t glimpse his dick. Imagined it: thick, smooth shaft dangling over heavy, shaved balls. Matching that flawless ass.
Ten minutes. Pulsing need. Light off in bathroom. I slipped out. Entered. Locked door. Closed window. Mirror streaked—his hand wipe. Stripped. Shirt off. Pants down. Boxers tented. Cock sprang free. Dim glow through frosted pane. Gripped myself. Stroked slow.
The Excess
Behind me, shadow stirred. Towel low on hips. Jérôme. Damp chest heaving. Our eyes locked in mirror. His: hesitant, sad. Mine: hungry. He untied. Towel dropped. There: his cock. Thick banana curve, swelling. Long, wide, flawless.
His hands gripped my slim hips. Pressed me to marble vanity. I arched. His belly hot in my low back. Cock rose, nudged my crack. Hard. Veined. Sweaty glide between cheeks. Lips grazed my neck. His left hand claimed my dick. Pumped deliberate. Slow fire.
I shuddered. Needed him inside. He thrust. Ring yielded to his girth. Filled me raw. Heat invaded. Fucked harder. Relentless. Breath hot on nape. Fingers dug hips. Jerked me firm. Edge crashed. Body locked. Cum erupted—two ropes splattered mirror. Muffled cry. Waves peaked. Collapsed against wall.
Jérôme vanished. Just me, spent on cool tiles. Cock limp in hand. Rose. Lights on. Wiped evidence—best orgasm ever. Dressed quick. Slipped to bed. Book waited. Dove in. Blissfully loose.
Penthouse silence sealed our secret. Glass walls whispered nothing. Elite discretion intact.
