The private elevator hums to the penthouse floor. Doors slide open. Crystal chandeliers gleam. City lights sparkle beyond floor-to-ceiling glass walls. I deposit my coat. My black lace dress clings, sheer, no lining. Nipples harden against the fabric. Heels force a sway in my hips. I feel exposed. Vulnerable. Like a whore in paradise.
Nicolas guides me to the bar-salon. Conversations halt. Eyes devour me. Murmurs rise with the ambient jazz. The bartender shakes a silver mixer. Ice rattles. We sink into a vast leather sofa, supple, warm against my thighs. Éva sits there already. Mid-thirties. Stunning. Poised.
The Privilege
“Your wife is breathtaking,” she says to Nicolas. “She stopped the room cold.” Her smile hooks him. “I’m Éva.”
“The dress helps,” he replies. “First time here. No dress code known.”
I blush. She defends me. “No rules for women but sexy. With her body, nudity works too.”
Nicolas grins. “Hear that, love? Locker’s close.”
Heat floods me. Couples pause before us. I whisper to him. “Drinks, please?”
He nods. Orders for us. Leaves. Éva slides nearer. Her perfume: jasmine, expensive. “You’re beautiful. Look up. See the proof.”
Men circle. She waves them off politely. “Just watching?”
“Nicolas wants… we want more.”
She senses my nerves. “Do only what you crave. Safer here than city streets.”
His eyes demand I flirt. She offers guardianship. Arm around me. Kiss on lips’ corner. Soft. Electric.
“You turn me on,” she confesses. “Want to touch you.”
“Never with a woman.”
“Yet.” She proposes a kiss test.
I glance at him. Nod. Her hands cradle my face. Lips meet. Tender. Lingering. I crave more. Initiate round two. Deeper.
He returns. Cocktails fizz. Champagne bites crisp. “Started without me? Good.”
Éva’s alone? No, Jérôme calls. Soon.
“Quieter spot? Cuddles till he arrives?”
“Yes,” I say. Heart races.
Empty room. Open to views. King bed draped in silk. We recline. He perches. Excited.
Kisses multiply. Her mouth explores. I respond. Hands roam. Breaths quicken. She cups my breasts. Moans escape.
I unbutton her blouse. Fondle her tits. Firm. His shock thrills me.
She hikes my dress. Fingers, tongue trace skin. Peels off my thong. Hands it to him. Mouth on my soaked pussy. Wet slurps echo.
69 ignites. Tongues devour. Juices flow. Groans fill air.
The Excess
Jérôme arrives. Towering. Athletic. Eyes lock on me. Hungry.
Nicolas shrinks.
Jérôme joins. Gentle. Skilled. Hands everywhere. Kisses necks, backs, mouths.
I glance at Nicolas. Offer my mouth. He refuses. Watches.
“Go home?”
“No. I’ll watch.”
Girls resume 69. His tongue rims my ass. Pussy. Bliss builds.
He sheathes his massive cock. Thick. Long. I don’t see. Yet.
Doggy over her. He teases entry. Slow thrusts. Éva licks my clit.
Fullness overwhelms. New. Stretching. Cries rise.
“Make me cum hard?”
“Yes. Soon.”
He edges me. Builds. Then pounds. Slaps echo. I shatter. Collapse. Spasms rack me.
Crowd watches. Awe.
I recover. Suck him rigid. Finger his ass. Mount him cowgirl. Roll hips. Deeper.
Éva offers DP. Analingus preps me. Fingers stretch. Volunteer steps up. Sheathed. Slides in smooth.
Synced thrusts. Belly stuffed. Cries peak. “Harder! Fuck yes!”
Orgasms crash. Applause.
Kneel for Nicolas. He balks. Drunk excuse.
Suck stranger instead. Eyes on him. Semen splatters face, dress.
More follow. Hands, mouth pleasure all. Gleaming. Radiant.
Drive home silent. At home, I cuddle. Tender kisses. He softens. Fucks me fierce. Pure love.
“I was wrong,” he whispers. “You’re mine alone.”
Tears. Joy.
