Early July morning. I pull up to their pristine villa in Bordeaux’s upscale suburbs after two weeks recharging in Basque Country. Jean opens the door, friendly handshake. We head to the kitchen, marble counters gleaming. Christine beams, flings her arms around my neck. Her navy dress hugs curves, buttons straining. Sandalettes click on tiles.
Aperitif flows: crisp rosé from their cellar, chilled to perfection. Dinner exquisite—tender beef, apple tart melting on tongue. Cognac warms us on leather armchairs, cigarillos curling smoke. Christine’s thighs cross, uncross. White lace flashes. Innocent? Or tease? Imagination runs wild.
The Privilege
Late night chat. Jean shows me to the guest room, king bed with silk sheets. He leaves early tomorrow. I crash hard.
Wake late. Coffee from the pot, still warm. Through garden window: Christine by infinity-edge pool, chaise lounge cradling her. Mini-bikini clings. She rises, stretches—ass round, arched back hypnotic. Heavy breasts sway, hips flare, legs golden. Dick twitches as I sip.
She dives in. I join, slip into trunks. Water cool, invigorating. We splash, laugh. She climbs ladder—ass inches from my face. Towels her body slow, deliberate. I linger in pool, erection fading.
On loungers, she whispers: ‘Remember that night we fooled around?’ Heat builds. ‘Unfinished business,’ she says. Grabs my hand, leads to guest room. Pushes me on bed. Straddles, kisses deep, tongue dancing. Hand frees my cock, strokes firm. Bites earlobe. Heaven.
Kisses trail down. Licks shaft, balls. Gobbles whole, throat deep. Frenzied suck. I grip hair, thrust. Explode down her throat. She swallows every drop.
My turn. Strip bikini. Tongue her neck, suck heavy tits, belly. Devour pussy—wet, sweet. She bucks, cums hard, fingers in my hair.
She revives me, mounts. Ass grinds slow. Guides hands to breasts—full, soft. I knead, slap ass. Pound up. She cries soft. I fill her deep.
The Excess
Shower quick. Jean due soon. She begs me stay afternoon. Lake fuck in car backseat. Home: shower, poolside, garden swing. Epic day.
Evening, Jean returns. Aperitif on terrace. Dinner divine. He suggests BBQ tomorrow. Guilt nags, but her hunger drives.
Midnight. He crashes—pills heavy. She lifts dress, tosses panties. Naked under apron. Fingers herself on couch. I stroke watching. She beckons.
Drops to knees. Licks balls, sucks. ‘Fuck me.’ On couch, slow thrust into heat. Sensual rhythm. Cum gentle inside.
Morning blaze. She in silk nightie. Every position—missionary, doggy, her riding wild. Orgasms cascade.
Noon. Jean grills. Kitchen: her hand in my shorts, strokes slow. ‘Watch him.’ Bends over sink, skirt up. I slam in, fast, risky. Cum together. ‘Keep my gift,’ she purrs.
Lunch terrace. Normalcy reigns. Secret sealed in villa’s walls.
The Discretion: Post-lunch, I pack. Hugs all around. Drive off, her taste lingering. Elite games thrive in shadows—pool ripples calm, cognac decanter shines. No traces. Pure privilege.
