From the terrace of my opulent villa in Montauban’s elite suburbs, I spotted Yannick and Denis behind the manicured hedge. Champagne chilled in crystal flutes. Their lithe forms, feminine grace, stirred envy in my sensual brunette core. Thirty-five, long-limbed with curves hugged by elegant tight skirts, my clear eyes behind round glasses sparkled invitation.
I called them over. Leather armchairs in the salon sighed under us. Alcohol flowed, talk turned carnal. Yannick, blond brute with cropped hair, eyed my black pleated skirt. I teased, parting thighs for glimpses of white lace panties. Denis caught on, gazes locked on my crotch. Phone rang. Husband Bernard droned from afar. They flanked me, palms gliding bare legs. Yannick’s finger traced my slit through damp fabric, slipped to Denis’s mouth.
The Privilege
Breasts freed from gray blouse, sheer bra discarded. Fingers plunged my soaked pussy. Their mouths suckled nipples. Yannick stood, unleashed thick cock from jeans, stroked languidly. I hung up. His shaft filled my mouth. I slurped ravenously, saliva dripping, growling like a bitch. On all fours, skirt hiked, panties mid-thigh, Denis throat-fucked me. Yannick tongued my ass, probing deep.
I spread cheeks wider. They craved my hole over my smooth-shaven cunt. On the heavy oak dining table, chest crushed against polished wood, Yannick pierced my anus. Gentle thrusts built to savage pistoning. They alternated, silent fury mounting. I begged seed.
Squatting between them, thighs splayed, panties at ankles, I frigged pussy and gaped ass. Mouth agape, they erupted. Cum glazed my glasses, face, tits. I quaked in orgasm. They licked me clean, then vanished to fuck each other fiercely.
Regular trysts ensued. Timed calls plotted scenes. First pussy fuck—Denis preferred my ass or throat. I did too. Sleeping beauty once: they ravaged mouth and rear while I feigned slumber. Final frenzy: their friend joined, all holes stuffed afternoon-long.
Husband Bernard thawed post-departure. Bank visit sparked Pascale fantasy. Forty, authoritative vixen, light brown hair, petite curves. High-heeled boots, sleeveless black dress clung to beige-stockinged legs, Dim-up lace peeking. In her lavish office, she led upstairs, ass flexing hypnotically.
The Excess
Desk-side, her red lips mesmerized. She bent for files, thighs parting, white flesh above stockings. Bernard’s smile mirrored mine. Hand on her firm cheek. He freed his cock. She gasped playfully. ‘Married!’ But legs spread as his finger delved satin panties, soaking her slit.
She knelt, expert suction hollowing cheeks, balls massaged, deep-throating Bernard. I fingered her bald, dripping cunt, thumbed her ass. ‘Filthy banker slut.’ She bucked wildly. Two fingers pussy, one ass—she craved it.
Bent over desk, panties mid-thigh above boots, I guided Bernard’s cock into her lubed hole. He hammered. ‘Fuck my ass harder! Hubby hates it—I adore being your whore!’ She spread cheeks, tits mashed wood. I sucked him between withdrawals, tasting her musk. She frigged furiously.
On knees together, faces touching, we milked his load. Hot ropes splattered us. Tongues shared the cream.
Hour later, composed. A month passed before home repeat. Now, Pascale lies to her man, dines with us. Falls asleep impaled on Bernard’s cock or swallowing.
