The Nespresso hissed its last in our penthouse kitchen, high above Paris’s twinkling skyline. November chill pressed against floor-to-ceiling windows, but inside, warmth reigned. Silk sheets from Egyptian cotton cradled me. He slipped out early, hating mornings yet craving my smile. Tray ready: his espresso in fine bone china, my Earl Grey steaming, fresh-squeezed orange juice in crystal, golden croissants, toast, unsalted butter softening, seedless raspberry jam, mountain honey, a single crimson rose in a flute glass. Pastel perfection amid luxury.
He set it bedside. Kissed my closed lids. I stirred, nostrils flaring at coffee, toast, bergamot. Smile bloomed. He melted. We savored in bed, crumbs scattering on 1000-thread linens. Empty cups, melted butter, jam pots gleaming. Playful, I dipped a finger in honey, sucked it slow. His pulse raced. Eyes locked. ‘Want some?’ Finger traced my hardened nipple, sticky trail. ‘Mountain honey… your favorite.’ He leaned in. Tongue flicked, lapped greedily. I sighed, arched. Voracious now, mouth crushed breast, sucking clean. Hand pinched the other nipple, rolling it firm.
The Privilege
His finger swirled jam around my navel. Gasp. Tongue followed the spiral, dipping, teasing belly muscles contracting under wet laps. Nips on soft skin. Hands gripped hips. Tongue roamed to thigh tops. I spread wide. ‘Lick me. Suck me.’ He blew hot breath on my slick folds. Camber. Plunged. Tongue flat, devouring juices sweeter than honey. I moaned, growled, lost control. He pinned thighs, sucked clit relentless. Spasm hit. Cry muffled. Hips bucked, thighs clamped his face. I drowned him in orgasm, then shoved away, floating in bliss. Head on my belly, he grinned. Not all mornings sucked.
I descended, caressed his hair. Eyes met—blue skies sunny at dawn. Kissed deep, tongues dancing. Hand trailed his smooth chest, found cock throbbing indecently. Gripped pulsing shaft. He gasped. On his back, I stroked rhythm to breath. Mouth on his nipple, teasing. Faster hand, watching toes curl, abs clench. Raucous groan. Body arched, heels and head only touching sheets. Jets spurted hot across belly. I milked every drop, then licked it clean, savoring salt on skin.
The Excess
Shower next. I emerged towel-turbaned, nude. Full breasts firm, short-cropped bush, rounded hips, toned thighs. He devoured sight. At armoire, his hands claimed hips. Quick kiss, I sent him to cleanse. Water cascaded; he soaped sensually, hairless body gleaming. Out, towel low. Froze. Me on all fours, center-bed, fingers parting lips, circling clit, moaning. ‘Fuck me. Take me. Now.’ Towel dropped; cock sprang rigid. Begged more, fingers plunging. He neared. ‘No tongue. Your cock inside.’
Hands on dream-ass cheeks. She impaled backward, brutal. Groan. Held hips, thrust deep. Thighs slapped. She whored, undulating. Harder. ‘Yes, fuck me like that. Grip tighter.’ Fingers bruised. Balls smacked thighs, pubis pounded ass. Bestial. Thumb circled winking anus, pressed in. ‘Love your cock and thumb filling me?’ ‘Yes, bastard, finger my ass.’ Filled utterly. His cock swelled. ‘Slut, gonna cum.’ ‘Flood me.’ Final slams. Buried deep, jets hosed walls. My cunt clenched, spasming silent. Collapsed together, hands locked white-knuckled. Sun climbed high. Day dawned in afterglow, secrets safe in glass-walled haven.
