The luxury hotel gleamed under the summer sun, marble floors cool underfoot, chandeliers dripping crystal light. I arrived Friday, exhausted, checking suites with ocean views, saunas steaming with eucalyptus, menus boasting foie gras and vintage champagne. As general secretary on trial, I served the president—a tall, chiseled terror with effortless power. His wife, Sandrine, waited at the bar, her photo no match for reality: petite, elegant, eyes sparkling mischief.
Handshakes firm, his praise flowed like the crisp Veuve Clicquot we sipped—courageous, dedicated. Her gaze lingered, warm, devouring. Dinner tables set with linen crisp as her smile, she slid beside me, defying my plan. Leg against mine, bare skin hot through thin fabric, no stockings. Foot arched, stroking my ankle under the table. Champagne bubbles burst on my tongue, mirroring the electric friction. She laughed at jokes, touched arms freely, but her thigh pressed insistent, calf rubbing mine in slow rhythm. Heart pounded. Poolside later, towel barely covering her, thighs taut, she asked to join us again. I drowned in desire, eyes tracing her ass’s curve as she walked away.
The Privilege
Evening dinner: white blouse sheer, black lace bra teasing pert breasts. Skirt hugging hips, heels sharpening calves. Leg contact bolder, foot bare now, toes curling around mine. Dessert hit, her sole massaged my inner thigh. Husband fetched her mid-bite. I ached, cock throbbing.
Knock shattered sleep. Door cracked, she pushed in, lithe in that blouse. Kissed hard, tongue invading, yanked pants down. Naked atop me, no panties, pussy slick. Straddled, impaled slow, squeezing tight on descent, releasing up. Rode like I was her toy, eyes shut, fingers on nipples. Flipped tender, skin silk-hot, sweat jasmine-sweet. Held my wrists, feet pinning thighs. Gyrated deep, moans soft. I bucked; she clamped, accelerated. Came inside her, flooding as she spasmed, bit neck.
Awoke embedded, her scent—jasmine, cum—intoxicating. Massaged me Thai-style, tongue every inch, deepthroated hands-free, pinching nipples. Invited cunnilingus: pussy gaping, clit swollen. Licked frenzy; she quivered, came wordless. Fucked missionary wild, sweat fusing us. ‘Don’t stop,’ she gasped. Scratched back raw, I unloaded deep.
The Excess
Dawn alone, chilled sheets rumpled. Breakfast terror: her smiling across, husband oblivious? Works dragged, guilt gnawing. Closing speech praised my ‘satisfaction for each’—heat flushed. Goodbye: his whisper, ‘Thanks for Sandrine.’ Her hand slipped thong in my pocket, card: ‘Call.’
SMS banter led call. ‘Dinner Monday,’ she purred, husband driving, hearing all. Office Monday: boss confronted. ‘She bet you’d open the door. Fuck her good, or out.’ Months followed: lived there, day-serving him, night her—pussy, ass, mouth. He watched, jerked, coached. She demanded crude: ‘Finger my ass?’ Perfect match.
December end: ‘Go home.’ Kissed goodbye, hand final between thighs. Colleagues clueless. Crave next seminar, memories pulsing.
