His tiny student studio smelled of coffee and old books. I knocked, heart already thumping. Pretext: checking if he’d join us in Courchevel. Black mini dress clinging to my curves, deep cleavage spilling out under my coat. He smiled, tired from writing. ‘Grab a glass, put on music,’ he said, eyes flicking over me. World music pulsed low. I poured red wine, sank cross-legged on a fat cushion by his desk. He typed away. Ten minutes, he promised.
I sipped slow. ‘When we studied, I’d massage my friend’s feet to relax her. Magic. Want one?’ He muttered about being ticklish. I slid under the desk anyway. Shoes off, socks gone. My thumbs dug into his soles, firm circles. He giggled, yanked back at first. Then relaxed. Heat built in my palms. Up to ankles, calves. His pants tented slow, insistent. Perfect view from down here. I hiked my dress higher, legs parting. Red silk thong barely hiding my slick heat. He leaned back. Saw everything. Thighs gleaming, pussy lips peeking.
The Fever
No words. Just his groan as I massaged higher. Hands inches from that bulge. Pulse hammered in my throat. Skin flushed hot. ‘Like it? More?’ He thrust forward, chair creaking. Legs spread wide. My cunt throbbed, wetness soaking silk. Dangerous game. Friend’s ex. But fuck reason. Desire clawed deep.
Fingers grazed his zipper. Slow strokes over fabric. He hardened rock-solid. I unzipped. Cock sprang free, veiny, pulsing. Mouth watered. Dove in. Lips stretched wide. Tongue swirled the head. Salty pre-cum. Deep throated him greedy. He bucked. No warning. First rope blasted my throat. Pinned under desk, thighs clamping my head. Gulped hot, thick jets. Nearly choked. Overflow spurted face, hair. Sticky ropes cooling on skin. Heart slammed. So much cum. Mammoth loads. I swallowed reflex, savoring the bitter cream.
Crawled out, face painted white, dress splattered. His eyes wild, spent. Pulled me up. Kissed deep. My cum-slick tongue tangled his. Drops trailed cheeks to neck. Hot shame twisted into fire. He lifted me onto desk. Papers crumpled. Thighs splayed. Thong shoved aside. Tongue on my clit. Lapped slow, then fierce. I shattered fast, hips grinding, juices flooding his mouth.
The Blaze
Bed next. No undressing. Cum-streaked, dress hiked. He slammed in raw. Deep, pounding my soaked cunt. Walls clenched. He erupted twice, flooding my womb. Gushes hit cervix, leaking out in creamy rivers. I came screaming, pussy spasming wet slaps. Legs wide, wrecked. Cum oozed down ass crack, soaking sheets. Breath ragged, skin fever-hot.
Shower later. Still dripping his seed down thighs. He joined. Bent me forward. Fucked from behind under steaming water. ‘Hold back,’ I begged. Clit throbbed. Came quick. Dropped to knees. Sucked grateful. He lasted longer. Final load smaller, but gulped every drop. Clean slate? No. Remorse hit post-glow. But that raw power… addictive.
Called her from bed, sheets tangled. Spilled it all. She listened, turned on. Blessed it. Even invited him to Courchevel. My official stud now. Skin still tingles. Pulse echoes that loss of control. Pure, devouring bliss.