The penthouse door clicked shut behind me, city skyline glittering through floor-to-ceiling glass walls. Dim light cloaked the suite, all marble floors, silk drapes, leather armchairs. She waited naked on the king bed, serene, silver collar glinting against pale skin. No lights. Just her message: ‘I’ll be nude. Waiting. Afternoon, evening, night, morning. Then nothing. Come take me.’
Belt unbuckled with a sharp snap, leather whispering down. Pants and briefs slid off. Shirt half-buttoned, she rose, lips parting for my hardening cock. Deep throat, no rush. I hardened fully, lay beside her. She positioned on hands and knees, ass high for our favorite doggy. Natural fit. Her pussy gripped me tight. I knew her rhythm: trilling her deep, relentless. Fast jabs, polishing her insides, slowing but never stopping. Hour plus, saccaded thrusts. She shattered, dislocated, mine.
The Privilege
Collar my request. ‘Wear just a simple silver one.’ She obeyed. I sped up, chasing her third orgasm. Felt her body seize, release. Withdrew, stroked, sprayed her tits hot. She cried out. I roared. Afternoon launched perfectly. Twenty-four hours. Last meet. Rented penthouse: neutral, pristine, perfect for fantasies.
Table set: crystal, silverware gleaming. Light bites, Dom Pérignon bubbling crisp, pear notes. She in apron only, cum trails drying on breasts. I poured wine over, licked clean. She shivered. Foods screamed sex: cucumber slices slick, figs split juicy, banana peeled slow. She sucked apricot, juice dripping chin. Lingerie on leather armchair: black silk panties, garters. Candles flickered in glass holders, jazz hummed low. No filming her face, but last session’s ass clip—my cock plunging—sent to him. Friend from café, who’d eyed her hungrily.
She bent over table edge, perfect arch. I plunged in. Table rattled, dishes shifted. She came loud, walls thick hopefully. Quick clip sent: ‘Live with her.’ He loved it.
Nap on rumpled Egyptian cotton sheets. Woke to oral feast. Her tongue delved my ass, then balls sucked deep. Nearly came. Reciprocated: tongue in her soaked pussy, held my head firm. Evening fell.
Text: Reserved chic spot nearby. No panties under that black dress, garters, collar. Walked, her heels clicking marble lobby.
The table surprised: three settings, alcove discreet.
‘Our guest?’ Her eyes sparkled.
The Excess
Him: café friend, Juda. Smiled sheepish.
‘Your call, Sylvia.’ Aperol spritz ordered. She slipped away. I whispered: ‘No panties.’ He stirred.
She returned: ‘Boys, what’ll it be? My treat.’ Dinner rushed, tension electric. Server’s wink: ‘Enjoy your evening, madame.’ Hands on her ass outside.
Elevator kiss, fingers in her wetness. Door shut, skirt up, four hands roaming.
Bed again. He thicker, less enduring. Perfect tag-team. I directed: ‘Her mouth while I fuck.’ He licked her clit under my pounding cock, tips brushing. She stood blindfolded by position, us swapping—sizes shifting inside. She exploded. We hosed her: hair to ass, dripping.
Slept collared, marked.
Morning late, sun high through glass. Juda gone. Coffee brewed, my cock swinging. Final doggy. ‘Finish in my mouth.’ Gentle goodbye. No more meets. Husband home tomorrow.
Hours later, selfie: her and Juda grinning. ‘Thanks, Vincent. Juda’s my husband. Wanted to watch you take me. Your cock was perfect. Collar? His wedding gift.’ Kiss emoji.
