Silk whispers against skin as we arrive at Kévin’s penthouse dojo, city lights glittering below like scattered diamonds. Impermeables hide our secrets: black stockings, red garters for me, lace framing bare cunts. Champagne chills in crystal flutes, bubbles sharp on tongues. Seven men, vetted alphas—Bryan, James, Florian, Alan, Steve, Claudio, Kévin—strip first. Cocks harden under our gaze. Juliette enters blindfolded, led by Steve. We unveil: heels clicking on tatami mats, bodies exposed, pussies glistening. Her eyes widen at the forest of erect shafts. ‘Happy birthday. They’re all yours,’ Andréa purrs. We stoke the flame, but she’s the queen.
Laughter echoes off glass walls. Doctor Martin’s pills promise floods—half-liters per load, safe, potent. No wanking for days; balls heavy. Juliette kneels, hands stroking two cocks, mouth devouring a third. Saliva drips. We circle, fingers tracing leather cushions, sips of Dom Pérignon fueling hunger. Jennifer’s smooth mound gleams; Andréa’s white lace contrasts her wetness. I lie back, Jennifer’s tongue on my clit, Andréa sucking nipples. Pleasure spikes sharp. I cum, quivering.
The Privilege
They rotate. Juliette’s face a canvas—cum splatters chin, cheeks, forehead. Thick ropes cling. She swallows greedily, eyes feral. One pulls out mid-thrust, unloads on her tits. Kitchen detour: a cock bends me over marble counters, thrusts deep. ‘Save your load for her,’ I gasp. He obeys, exploding over her open mouth later. Floods pour from her stretched pussy. Andréa laps her face clean, swallows every drop. I dive between Juliette’s thighs, sucking creamy nectar, mouth full. Show it off—tongue out—then feed her. Jennifer spits a fresh load from her suck-off. We devour, depraved sisters.
The Excess
Cocks revive. Double blowjobs stretch my jaw, tongues swirling glans. DP follows: pussy and ass filled, slow builds to frenzy. Juliette whispers, ‘Want them to paint your face. I’ll lick it clean.’ They do—hot jets on lips, cheeks, hair. She cleanses me, tongue thorough, swallowing remnants. Anal screams from Jennifer pierce the air. Mine joins: a savage ass-fuck, stars bursting, howl echoing off penthouse heights.
Dawn nears. Juliette pulls us aside. Jennifer’s on her fourth anal pounding, howling. ‘Her birthday next: all-anal night?’ Laughter hushes. Cum trails dry on skin, mats stained. Servants discreetly vanish evidence. Champagne toasts seal silence. Penthouse walls of glass guard our secret. Elevators whisk us to limos, bodies sated, elite bonds tighter. No traces left but memories—and the flood in our veins.
