Brussels penthouse. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls frame the glittering cityscape. End-of-year elite academy trip. I host two students. One repatriated—broken ankle. The other arrives solo. Young, innocent. Venetian blonde waves frame my brown eyes. Elongated face, smooth skin, sensual lips. Tight jeans hug my curves. Zipper jacket bulks my torso, teases my heavy breasts beneath. He steals glances. Smiles. Playful. Unattainable, he thinks. I sip chilled Krug from crystal flutes, leather sofa cool against my thighs. Night deepens. He bids goodnight. Ascends marble stairs to the guest bath. I lounge, TV flickering.
Steam rises. I hear water. Curiosity pulls me. Door swings open. Him—naked, erect before the marble vanity. Shock widens his eyes. Shame flushes his cheeks. Rigid cock throbs, veins pulsing. I pause in the threshold. Smile coils my lips. Coquettish glint in my gaze. Step forward. ‘Et alors, jeune homme?’ Silence. ‘For your age, you’re well-built. Promising.’ ‘Merci, madame…’ ‘Do I please you?’ ‘You’re very pretty.’ ‘Want to see a real woman? Beyond schoolgirl flashes?’ ‘If you’d allow… incredible.’ ‘First time?’ ‘Yes. Just spied classmates’ thongs. Fantasized.’ ‘Always dreamed of initiating youth. No man now. My gain.’ Zipper rasps down. Caraco strains over voluptuous tits. Jacket drops. Hands grip his hips. Mine slide up his torso. Kiss ignites—wet, hungry. ‘Can I touch?’ ‘Of course.’ Palms seize my breasts. Full, heavy. He kneads. I shed caraco. Pale pink bra cups swell above soft belly waves. His cock—steel hard, flushed crimson. Short, thick. ‘Belle queue. Wide surprise.’ Armoire yields small scissors. I trim his bush smooth. Pubis gleams. Balls bare. ‘Better. You please more now.’ Kneel. Unbutton jeans. Fabric eases off half-exposed ass. Violet panties peek. Troubled heat in me. ‘Ever had a blowjob?’ ‘No.’ ‘I’ll teach.’ ‘First, your bra?’ ‘Men crave these. Enjoy.’ Back turned. Aglets unclip after fumbles. Bra falls. Heavy tits sway—sagging slightly with age, nipples thick. He gropes, sucks, worships. Hand strokes him. Cock rubs tit valley. I squeeze, titfuck slow. Then tongue laps shaft. Base caressed. Sighs escape him. Lips kiss glans. Hands on shoulders. ‘Craving deep?’ ‘Let me.’ Mouth engulfs. Tongue swirls glans like candy. Bobbing deepens. Throat yields. ‘Almost to hilt. Press shoulders. Set pace.’ I suck hard. Hips buck. He nears edge. Pulls out. ‘Better not.’ ‘Gentle boy. No cumshot, no hair-pull. Pause wise—endurance builds.’ Resume. Swirls. Stands. ‘Reward: I’ll fuck you.’ Jeans, panties shed. Legs part against vanity. Smooth pink pussy gleams—waxed pristine. ‘What say?’ ‘Oh…’ ‘First real one? Surprised smooth?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Heightens feel. Men love.’ ‘Kiss it?’ Kneel. Thighs, mound. Tongue probes slit. Head stroked. Gyrations guide. Clit found. Finger circles soft. Moans peak. ‘Coming!’ Second wave: ‘Champion. No fingering—gentleman.’ Sweat sheens her.
The Privilege
She grabs my hand. Leads to master suite. Silk sheets on king bed. City lights pulse through glass. Embrace. Kisses deepen. Hands reclaim tits, descend. She wanks him firm. ‘On back.’ Straddles. Guides thick cock in. Slow grind. Hands on tits. Thrusts tentative. ‘Gentle…’ Fingers to clit. Orgasms crash. ‘Now above.’ Missionary slow. Pace builds. Cries sync. Climax explodes. Initiation sealed.
Dawn. Marble floors cool. Champagne flutes empty. He departs. Name unknown to him. Secret sealed in glass walls. Elite discretion absolute.
