Nine a.m. I eye myself in the private elevator’s flawless crystal mirror, rising to the penthouse VIP wing. My nurse’s blouse, crisp white silk too short, hugs my skin. Thin fabric betrays no thong beneath. Too tight for my massive tits—swollen melons, round and firm, defying gravity sans bra. Pink nipples, perpetually hard, stab the cloth insolently.
I feel desirable. Daily glances strip me: men, women, devouring with eyes that fuck me raw. My husky voice purrs low. Damp, challenging gaze. Feline sway. Constant touch—grabbing arms, brushing asses, grinding colleagues, lingering welcome kisses.
The Privilege
Few resist. Some flee the fire I ignite. Most burn to claim me. I toss my silky mane back. Exotic perfume floods the gold-paneled cabin—jasmine and musk from Paris. I unbutton further, baring perfect bronzed globes, oiled to gleam under soft LED lights. Seeing myself, my slit weeps. Before ten, I need cock or fingers; my pussy lips part, hot scent rising thick.
Elevator hums to second floor. Doors part for Nadia, my Italian vixen under twenty. Panther grace: olive skin, emerald eyes, raven hair. Wild still, but I crack defenses. Rumors say lovers. Truth: we fuck often, stay free for others. Weekly ritual—nights out, swapping conquests, then frenzied rutting.
She’s radiant, fresh-fucked glow. As she steps in, sharp tang of cum-sweat hits—hours old, undouched. ‘You reek of sex from ten paces,’ I growl, doors sealing. ‘And it soaks me. Come.’ I yank her arm, crush her to me, devour her lips. She yields, tongue darting playful. I slam stop. She pants. Her hand dives between my thighs. I spread for probing fingers grazing my swollen gash. Lips bloom, clit throbs erect. I grip her pert ass, hike her skirt, knead firm cheeks. Just a thong. My finger traces crack to twitching rosebud.
‘Julie, I’m losing it. Fuck my greedy slit, suck my tits, finger my ass. You made me a sex addict like you. Payback: I’ll fuck you dead.’
The Excess
The mirrored walls multiply us infinitely—endless bronzed curves in white silk, raven locks wild. Champagne flute nearby from last VIP call, fizz forgotten on marble ledge. City skyline blurs outside vast glass panels, penthouse ascent forgotten.
She drops to knees, spreads mine, flips up blouse. Grips cheeks, face to my dripping prune. Pungent cunt musk intoxicates. Agile tongue flicks slit, teases lips, circles turgid clit. I clutch her neck, grind her in. She laps methodically—from Venus mound, delving deep, tormenting pearl. Her free hand kneads my ass, probes anus.
I bare my udders, knead them, roll together. Pinch wood-hard nipples. Hoist one globe to teeth, bite succulent tip. Nadia fingers her smooth gash, tongue thrusting wilder. I quake, cries escape. Orgasm builds.
Perfidious slut pulls back. I dangle, drenched, raging. ‘Vicious whore, stopping at the edge!’ ‘Punish me, I deserve it.’ She spins, bends, offers ass. Slap cracks right cheek. Yank thong aside, palm her bald, puffy slit—juices suck three fingers in. She craves rear too. I pump her pussy, tease pulsing ring. Her arm snakes back, claws my clit. We buck, gasp, shatter in unison—juices spraying marble floor, echoes in luxe cage.
Slow breaths. No eyes meet. Adjust silk, smooth skirts. Elevator resumes to fifth. ‘Slut,’ I whisper. ‘Vixen,’ she laughs. Doors open. We stride out, pristine pros. Penthouse calm resumes—plush leather consults, crystal decanters, secrets sealed in glass walls.
