We step into Club 44, hearts pounding under crimson lights. The air hums with velvet whispers and bass throbs. Hand in hand, Sébastien and I weave through bodies pressed close, eyes devouring us as newcomers. The bar beckons, leather sofas cradling us like secrets. Free drinks from Sonia, the flirtatious server, her wink promising more. Her note clings to my glass: her number, a playful temptation we pocket discreetly.
Laughter bubbles as we sip, bodies warming. The dance floor calls. I pull him down, hips grinding to sultry rhythms. His hands claim my ass, firm and insistent. Sweat beads on skin, breaths mingle. Our lips crash, tongues duel wet and hungry. I spin, back to his chest, ass teasing his hardening cock through fabric. His mouth devours my neck, tongue tracing fire. My pussy aches, heat soaking denim. ‘Let’s isolate,’ I murmur, voice husky.
The Privilege
We plunge into labyrinthine halls, find an empty room bathed in scarlet glow. Door locked. Shoes off. Circular black leather sofa gleams, condoms scattered like jewels. One wall: a vast mirror-window to another crimson chamber. I attack his mouth, teeth nipping his lip. Shirt unbuttons slow, my fingers map his toned chest. Kisses trail down, bites on nipples. Pants drop to suspect carpet. His boxer tents obscenely. Teeth snag fabric, drag it down, hair brushing filth.
Standing, nails rake his skin. I strip: blouse, pants gone. Lace bra strains over 95D swells. His hand strokes himself, eyes locked. Bra snaps free, heavy tits bounce out, dark nipples erect. String slips off, smooth pussy exposed. Cheers from the window: couple and three men, cocks out, stroking.
I laugh, crush tits to his chest, push him onto leather. Straddle. Kiss deep, guiding his hand. But I shift up, pussy hovering over his face, cinnamon scent thick. Lower. Lips kiss mound. Tongue parts folds, clit swells under flicks. I grind, moaning loud, fingers in his hair. Nipples pinched, body arches. Crowd doubles, fists pumping.
The Excess
Pussy smears his face, my fingers circle clit. Waves build. I grab condom, tear with teeth, wink at watchers. Mouth rolls it on his shaft flawlessly. Suck once, twice. He pulls me up, tongue blazing path. Kiss fierce. Hand grips base, sinks down slow. Fully sheathed, we groan. Heads together, breaths sync.
Cowgirl rhythm starts languid, hips circling. His hands knead tits, pinch dark nipples. I suck his thumb, grind harder. Nail his nipple, he squirms. Brutal now: short, vicious bucks. Skin slaps wet. Voices rise—mine shrieking, his grunting around my thumb. Tits bounce wild, sweat gleams. Climax crashes: cock spasms in latex, pussy clamps, nails rake his chest. I shatter, screaming, collapsing.
Tenderness floods. Kisses soft, bodies slick. ‘Did I shock you?’ Vulnerability in my whisper. ‘Never.’ We rise, ditch condom. Room empty, cum streaks on glass. Laughter. Quick rinse offered, but ‘Home, with you.’ Clothes on, no underwear. Sonia slips thank-you notes: elegant praise. We pocket, flee into night.
Walk home breezy, blouse gaping to pale skin. Coin to homeless man: ‘Thanks, lovers.’ Blush, smile. Bath awaits: steaming, shared. I nestle back, his arms fortress. Drowsy peace. Bed nude, spooned sleep.
