Printer hums in the distance from the office annex. Coffee aroma mixes with my perfume, sharp and teasing. The company party sprawls across the rented property’s terrace—open-space vibe under party lights. Daphnée’s 10-year anniversary with Damien. Colleagues chatter about dossiers, deadlines. My new fuchsia dress clings tight. No split-crotch panties. Tiny string instead. Nipple pendants tug with every step. Alain hovers, eyes hungry.
Looks dart across the crowd. François arrives late, Daphnée’s arm in his. Our eyes lock. Spark. He smiles blank for show. Heart races. Mouse clicks echo from laptops in the breakroom corner—guys checking emails even here. Door to garden creaks open. Music thumps. I sip wine, too much. Disappointment bites. Where is he?
Tension Builds in the Open Terrace
Daphnée drags Alain away. ‘New canapés!’ François whispers close. ‘Beautiful. Missed you. Slip away soon. Kiosk at garden end.’ Stomach flips. ‘Obey.’ His word burns. I nod. Parade casual. Gravel crunches under heels. Spots fade behind. Eyes adjust to shadows. Kiosk looms. Door latches—click, locked.
He rises from wicker chair. Grabs me. Kisses hard. Cock presses through pants. ‘What I ordered?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Drop the dress.’ Fingers tremble. Fabric pools. Pushed to balustrade. Hand on back—bend. Legs spread. His bulge grinds. Zipper rasps. Hot shaft out. ‘Husband prepped this cunt for me.’ ‘Yes.’ Fingers in mouth. ‘Arch. Offer.’ Gland probes. I push back. He thrusts. Fills me. Wet, ready.
‘Tonight he hunts you, dressed slutty for him. But for me.’ Faster. Harder. Hips slap. Balustrade creaks. Guests visible—Alain among them. ‘Love it?’ ‘Yes. Fuck me.’ ‘Beg.’ ‘Take me. Stuff me. Pound.’ Clit throbs. I rub. Orgasm crashes. Muffled scream—his hand clamps. Waves hit fast.
Explosive Release and Twisted Obedience
He grips tits. Twists nipples. Slow builds. Breath ragged. He floods me. Cum gushes deep. Pulls out. String snaps back, trapping it. Dress on. Hair fixed. ‘Fetch husband. Fuck him here. My seed inside.’ ‘Can’t…’ ‘Obey.’ Legs slick, I weave back. Coffee scent clings from terrace.
Alain frets. ‘Where?’ Whisper: ‘Nipples ache. Horny. Outside.’ He beams. Leads to kiosk. Door clicks shut. Push him to bench. Kneel. Zipper down. Cock out, balls free. Suck deep. Saliva mixes his pre-cum with François’. He kneads tits. I mount. Guide him in—slick from lover’s load. Squish sounds. ‘Wet slut.’ Bounce. Ondulate. He stands, pins me to post. Hammers. ‘Whore!’ François watches shadow-smile.
Slow. ‘Mouth now.’ Kneel again. Suck sloppy. His hand pushes deep. Explodes. Thick ropes fill throat. Swallow humble—no eye-fuck. Clean him. Mouchoir wipe. Back to party poised. Red cheeks? ‘Fresh air.’ François ghosts: ‘Good girl. Room later—full slut show.’ Fingers to cunt, then mouth. ‘Taste us. Kiss him with me.’
Alain waits eager. Daphnée winks—knows. Tits rub fabric, sore. ‘Bedtime. Want you.’ Eyes blaze. Thank hosts. Room awaits. François’ game deepens. Submission consensual, thrilling. No regrets. Yet.