The private elevator hums to the penthouse summit. Paris sprawls below, golden under summer sun. Cedric’s hand brushes mine as doors slide open. Marble floors gleam. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls frame the Eiffel Tower. I step into leather-scented air, Versace sofa inviting. He pops a Dom Pérignon ’09. Bubbles fizz sharp on my tongue, crisp apple and brioche. We sip, eyes locked. My sundress clings, silk whispering against tanned skin. No bra. Nipples harden under his gaze.
He circles me, fingers tracing my shoulder blades. ‘Franck knows,’ I murmur. Smile plays on his lips. Franck’s text buzzes ignored in my clutch. We’re elite. Rules don’t bind us. I lean into the panoramic view, ass pressing back against his crotch. Firm bulge stirs. His hands slide down, cupping my firm cheeks through thin fabric. No panties today. Just bare, smooth heat. He squeezes, thumbs dipping into cleft. Goosebumps rise. Champagne flute clinks on crystal table.
The Privilege
Lips meet. Tongues dance slow, then fierce. His stubble rasps my neck. I turn, unbutton his crisp white shirt. Chest hair tickles palms. Belt unbuckles with a snap. Zipper rasps. His cock springs free, thick, veined, already leaking pre-cum. I stroke velvet shaft, thumb circling glistening head. He groans into my mouth. Dress hikes up. Cool air kisses shaved pussy lips.
We sink into butter-soft leather armchair. Overstuffed, enveloping. His mouth claims my 95B tits. Tongue flicks nipples, teeth graze. I arch, fingers in his hair. Pussy aches, slick. He drops lower, knees on Persian rug. Spreads my thighs wide. Tongue dives in. Laps clit, sucks folds. Juices coat his chin. I grind against his face, heels digging into leather. Moans echo off glass.
Standing now. I push him back onto sofa. Straddle. Grip his cock, rub head along slit. Sink down slow. Inch by inch stretches me full. Walls clench. He thrusts up, balls slap ass. Champagne spills on my tits; he licks it off. Pace builds. Sweat beads on bronzed skin. View blurs—Seine glitters irrelevant.
The Excess
Bent over glass table. Cold edge bites hips. He rams from behind. Cock pistons deep, hits cervix. Fucks like animal. Hand fists my hair, pulls back. Other slaps ass cheek red. ‘Your pussy’s mine now,’ he growls. I cream around him, orgasm ripping. Squirts down thighs. He pulls out, flips me. Legs over shoulders. Pounds merciless. Balls tighten. Roars, floods me. Cum gushes out as he withdraws, drips onto marble.
Collapsed on king-sized bed. Egyptian cotton sheets cool fevered skin. He spoons me, cock softening against ass crack. City hums distant. Champagne bottle sweats in bucket. We sip remnants, sticky fingers intertwined. No words. Franck’s message glows: eager for details. Secret sealed in luxury’s hush.
Shower later. Rain heads cascade steam. Soap suds glide over curves. He washes my pussy, fingers probing cum-filled hole. Gentle now. Towels plush as clouds. I dress—stretch jeans hug ass, drawing his eyes. Elevator descends. Discretion absolute. Walls of glass hold our sin. Till next summons.
