It was the eighties, no cell phones yet. Detail matters. I enter our penthouse early, a big client bailed last minute. Rare luxury. Marble floors gleam under crystal chandeliers. City skyline sparkles through floor-to-ceiling glass walls. I expect emptiness. Then, upstairs, shower hums.
Annette, my petite blonde, should be at the office. Early return? Excitement stirs. I climb silently. Italian marble stairs cool underfoot. Fantasy brews: surprise her in the rain shower, aquatic caresses. Life’s routine starved our fire.
The Privilege
Bathroom door ajar. Translucent glass enclosure, imported last year. I freeze. Annette nude with Bénédicte, her lifelong friend. Kissing hungrily. Shock hits like champagne cork.
They’ve been tight since primary school. Close, yes. This close? No. Annette yields, eyes shut. Bénédicte leads, soapy hands tracing curves. Soft moans echo. Bénédicte: raven hair, voluptuous Latina body. Massive breasts strain fabrics always. Wide hips sway. Ass demands stares.
Annette slimmer, sweet curves. No excess flesh. Bénédicte collects lovers. I never strayed. Wet bodies grind. Stiff nipples. Glabrous slits part in arousal. Paradise denied. Betrayal stings, not lust.
Films promise threesomes. Here, impotence. I’d watch, if shared. Secret wounds deepest. Bénédicte probes Annette’s entrance. Finger vanishes. Pleasure ripples.
I cough loud. Faces snap. Eyes wide.
‘Gu… Guillaume!?’
‘Hello darling. Hello Bénédicte.’
Bénédicte shrieks, hands over heavy tits. Too late. Annette petrified, dripping.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Early client cancel. You?’
‘Took afternoon off…’
‘Since when? No heads-up?’
‘Morning decision…’
‘Bénédicte nearby?’
Wrapped in towel: ‘I pushed her. Girl talk.’
‘I saw the talk.’
‘Not planned. Rum and coke overload…’
Rum scent confirms. Excuse? Debatable.
Annette nude: ‘Sex talk led here. Girl stuff.’
‘Understood.’
Bénédicte: ‘I’m bi. She was curious. Stories turned hands-on.’
‘First time?’
Annette approaches: ‘Yes! Never cheated!’
Truth in her eyes. I believe.
‘Thanks.’
The Excess
To Bénédicte: ‘Lucky you’re female. Male? I’d kill.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Yes.’
Bénédicte slips out. Irony drips.
I grip Annette. ‘I love you deeply. Words fail me.’
She stares, anew.
‘You… love me?’
‘Married you for real.’
She forgives. We forget. Friend stays.
The Discretion. Bénédicte gone. I strip. Hard cock evident. Shower reignites. Hot water cascades. I kiss fierce. Hands roam slick skin.
‘It excited you?’
‘Yes. No. Fear of loss. Rediscover you.’
I devour her small tits. Cannibal urge. She giggles. Compress, release. ‘Nichon tight!’
New word. Dirty play.
‘Bend over. Pussy, not ass.’
She obeys. Smooth cheeks beg. Grip hips. Thrust deep. Cry escapes.
‘Masturbate. Cum first. Then I fill you.’
‘Macho!’
‘Fingers work. Cock pounds.’
She rubs frantic. Nails graze me. Ass pushes back.
‘Good slut.’
‘You calling me slut?’
Arches deeper. I piston. Hold back.
Eyes lock, wicked. Then she breaks. Shudders. Screams echo off marble.
I unleash. Jets flood her. Ecstasy soars. Overflow drips.
We fuck showers often now. Tender, violent. Penthouse revived us. No phone warning saved it. Pivots define lives.
