Our penthouse gleams under twilight, floor-to-ceiling glass framing the city sprawl. Serge arrives, bouquet and vintage champagne in hand. The elevator dings. Lise, in her black dress—my choice—hugs him lightly. Silk whispers against his shirt. I pour Veuve Clicquot, bubbles sharp on the tongue, fizzing like anticipation. We tour the space: spiral staircase of polished metal, leather sofa supple under us. Lise ascends first. Serge follows. Her heels click sharply. Black stockings sheath endless legs. The dress rides up—garter straps snap into view, pale thigh flesh glowing. His grin meets mine. Pure complicity.
Upstairs, master suite. Exposed beams, king bed, terrace vista—no prying eyes, just endless sky. Serge eyes our nightstand. Lise unlocks it. Toys spill: vibrators, plugs, my strap-on harness. He nods, unfazed. Knows my secrets. Down to the salon. Champagne refills. Her dress hugs curves—corset beneath, no panties. I unzip her slowly. Fabric pools at her feet. Corset cinches her waist wasp-thin. Breasts spill free, nipples pert. Stockings shimmer. She stands exposed, elite slut in our elite lair.
The Privilege
She undresses him. Chest hair tickles her palms. Lips trace down. Zipper rasps. His cock springs—thick, veined, ready. She kneels. Tongue swirls balls to tip. Saliva threads glisten. He groans. I watch, hard as steel. 69 on the leather: her ass hovers, pussy dripping. He laps her clit. She gags on shaft, throat bulging. She cums first—body quakes. His load floods her mouth. She swallows, eyes locked on me.
She mounts him. Corset strains. Pussy engulfs cock. Hips grind viciously. ‘Fill me!’ Breasts bounce. He erupts inside. We sip more champagne, bodies slick. He recounts their libertine origins—doors ajar, moans echoing. Her hand strokes him rigid again.
The Excess
Blindfold me in the kitchen. Marble counters cool. She bends over the island, ass high. Serge narrates: ‘Her cunt weeps.’ Fingers plunge. Wet slaps echo. ‘Taste us.’ She sucks my cock while he rails her. Flesh smacks. ‘Fuck me like my husband’s toy.’ I peek: him buried deep. She blows me sloppy. He switches—lubes her ass. Enters slow. Ring stretches, grips. She howls. Double-teamed: her mouth on me, him reaming.
We collapse to bed. Dawn filters through glass walls. Serge fucked her at sunrise while I slept—his cum still coats her folds. I slide in, churning his seed. Creamy glide. He watches, stroking. Fingers my ass—silky from waxing. ‘You crave it.’ Lise urges: ‘Take him.’ Spit-slick gland presses. Burns, then yields. Inch by inch, he fills me. Hot, pulsing. Thrusts propel me deeper into her. I’m bitch and bull. Mirrors capture it: chain of flesh. He unloads—warm flood. I explode. Vice perfected.
Morning hush. Sheets silk-soft. City hums below. Secrets sealed in glass and stone. Ours alone.
