The manor’s sprawling gardens whispered old money. Crystal chandeliers flickered through French windows. I spotted her first. Tall brunette, cropped hair, preppy chic. Head held high, yet her laugh lit the room. Dancing with friends, pure charisma. Arthur caught my stare. Smirked. ‘Fabulous, huh?’ ‘Not bad.’ ‘Amélie.’ I leaned into his shoulder, chuckling at his pun. Pathological. But he makes me laugh weekly. ‘Introduce us?’ Destiny, I said. He knew her man, Stéphane. Taken, no surprise. Minutes later, the four of us chatted careers, hobbies, vacations. ‘Martiniquais? We loved Gosier last year!’ ‘Guadeloupe, actually.’ No offense. I adore it too. Friends there, seaside restaurant. They raved about seafood platters. We settled on the terrace. Wicker armchairs, cool rattan under palms. Arthur plunked down single-malt whisky, Coke. He crashes here. Party till dawn. Me? Thirty clicks to Paris by 3 AM. Garden hush enveloped us. I eyed Stéphane discreetly. Fine features, soft virility. Plump lips, glistening. Broad shoulders, ripped torso, slim waist. Swimmer, runner. Faded jeans hugged firm thighs. His hand intertwined Amélie’s. Lovers, complicit. Our eyes locked. Surprise, arched brow, then smile. Spark hit me. Stirring erection, trapped in thick wool. Did she know? Her knowing grin confirmed it. ‘Gotta go. Tennis tomorrow.’ Amélie rose. ‘Up, chéri.’ Stéphane slumped. ‘Can’t drive.’ ‘I hate night drives.’ Arthur slurred horse puns. Ignored. ‘Fred, drop us? Five km away.’ Quarter-hour later, gates swung open. Normal gait from him, whispering hand-in-hand. Amélie front, Stéphane back. Ten minutes: sleek three-story stone penthouse. ‘Park. Come up for a drink.’ Her smile, pure sensuality. Salon: leather armchair cradled me. Them entwined on vast sofa. Fresh orange juice, chilled crystal. Jazz saxophone rasped low, vinyl groove. Halogen dimmed to amber glow. Guadeloupe tale: sail instructor flirted her, then him. She teased jealousy. ‘Said I’d fuck him.’ He fumed. But hardened. ‘Realized it turned you on.’ Fingers under polo, stroking abs. He bit lips, eyes shut, breaths ragged. Pinched nipples, ear kisses. ‘Bisexual urges, my love.’ ‘Best way to taste it all.’ I met her gaze, bulge obvious. ‘Me too.’ Confession flowed. They kissed deep. She pulled back. ‘Undress, chéri.’ Polo off, jeans down. Bulging briefs. She knelt, eased them off. Stunning cock sprang up. Firm ass. ‘Voyeur?’ ‘You too.’ I stripped. She positioned us face-to-face. ‘Grab his cock.’ Stéphane gripped firm, skinned back. Forehead to his hot shoulder, I stroked his back. Close to edge. She behind him, dress gone, naked. Pushed him kneeling. Tongues met, her hand on my neck. His tongue circled my hypersensitive glans, saliva trails. Then engulfed. Hot mouth, tongue underside, palate thrust. Fingers kneaded ass, probed anus deep. Knees buckled, moaned into her. Pulled out. Gasp. We lifted her, tossed to king bed. Pounced. I devoured pert tits, nipples hardening under flicks. He licked inner thighs slow. Reached pussy, lips parting slick. Joined him. Cheeks brushed, breaths mingled, tongues battled her clit. She gripped thighs, bucked, long muffled cry, limp. Tongues met, her nectar shared, fierce kiss. He spread her, plunged deep. Feline thrusts, arm round my neck, wild eyes. She met every slam, moans rising. Abrupt stop. Withdrew. Knelt over her. She turned, ass up, mouth on me. He gripped hips, impaled slow. Her mouth synced to his rhythm. I fondled tits. He leaned, licked my shaft at her lips. They shared, mutual climax. She rolled condom on me, mounted slow. Rocked deep, fingers sucked. He behind, tongue on balls, her ass. Spread cheeks, he entered slow. Cocks rubbed through her. His ass in my hands. She tranced, clenched. I thrust wild, exploded muffled. Later, we lapped his throbbing cock. Knelt, I rimmed hot pucker, fingered prostate. He roared, she swallowed all. Tangled, we slept. Dawn ray pierced shutters, witnessed our bliss. Glass walls sealed the secret. Penthouse hush, elite pact intact.
