The grand dining hall of Le Château, our company’s lavish year-end venue, gleams under crystal chandeliers. Velvet banquettes cradle us, champagne flutes chill in silver buckets. I sit between secretaries: Marie-Pierre, prim and poised, and Suzanne, the boss’s stunner. Auburn hair cascades over her low-rise pants, exposing a serpent tattoo snaking toward her ass crack. Her deep cleavage heaves with laughter at crude jokes about where the ink ends—pussy lips or anus? Bubbles fizz on my tongue, sharp and golden.
Dinner flows: foie gras melts, wines seduce. Jacques, the boss, flanks Suzanne. Colleagues rotate partners on the polished oak dance floor. I claim her first. Our bodies grind slow under dim lights. Her breath hot on my neck, hands trace my erection through wool trousers. Kisses tease lips. She spins, lifts her red top—lace bra revealed. Pants drop: red thong frames her trimmed bush. Bra off, tits bounce firm, nipples hard peaks. Thong slides down, tattoo curls over left cheek. She parades nude, hips swaying, owning every gaze.
The Privilege
She grabs my hand, molds my cock like clay. Belt unbuckles, pants pool at ankles. Boxer yanked, my thick shaft springs free, veined and throbbing. She kneels, lips engulf me—wet suction, tongue swirling precum. Crowd watches, beers raised.
Suzanne turns, bends, grabs ankles. ‘Ram it in.’ Her pussy lips part, slick and pink. I thrust deep, balls slapping her clit. Colleagues cheer: ‘Pound her! Make her cum!’ Marie-Pierre circles, wild-eyed: ‘Fuck her hard, finger her ass, slap those cheeks!’ Suzanne moans, walls clenching my girth. I grip hips, piston faster—leather soles squeak on floor, champagne scent mixes with musk.
Her orgasm hits: ‘Yes, fuck, it’s coming!’ She spasms, juices flood my shaft. I erupt, jets painting her cervix. We slow-grind, her naked curves pressed to my half-dressed frame. Marie-Pierre snags the young intern, tongues battle openly.
The Excess
Pants up, we sway as she stays bare, loving the exposure. Relief: boss left early. We flee to my penthouse. She strips in the limo, leather seats sticky. Nude upstairs, weekend blurs: silk sheets soaked, her tits in my mouth, cock buried repeatedly. Empathetic, playful—she prioritizes my bliss.
Monday, stares burn. Marie-Pierre averts eyes. With Jacques and Suzanne, business as usual—her blouse gaps, braless tits sway, skirt hikes bare pussy. Boss unmoved. Evening, she confesses failed seductions of him. Photos circulate: her strip, my impalement. Fury fades under her calm.
Marie-Pierre’s desk: my dick pics hidden. Later, her hand snakes my crotch. Zipper rasps, she frees me, strokes, sucks deep. Gulp after gulp, she swallows my load. ‘Your cock haunts my nights.’ Kiss, gone.
Boss invites us to his Vaucluse estate. Secrets simmer in luxury’s veil.
