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Across the room, there’s a set of eyes watching us. I’m not sure who spots him across the room first—me or Marcel, but when my eyes land on him I know he’s the one I want eating my pussy alongside my husband.
He’s gorgeous. And tall, at least six feet five, with a shock of dark, wavy hair and dark, piercing eyes. From where I’m standing, he looks as if he’s been sculpted from a delicious batch of caramel, then drizzled with hot fudge.
“Him,” I say, sliding my sticky fingers into my mouth, then licking them as I would a hard dick. “He’s who I want for us tonight.”
“Yeah, that muhfucka’s real sexy, baby. Good choice.”
He doesn’t shift his gaze when he sees us looking back at him. He smiles. I smile back. Marcel acknowledges him with a head nod. “Yo, I think he likes what he sees.”
“And so he should,” I say, feeling my skin heat at the thought of sucking his dick and licking his balls while Marcel fucks me. I pick up a crystal flute off one of the trays. I hand it to Marcel, then grab a flute for myself.
Marcel smirks. “Let’s hope the muhfucka doesn’t have a lil’-ass, infant-size dick. I’m not tryna see them pretty lips wrapped around no tiny-ass dick, baby.”
I clink my glass with his. We both take slow sips. The fact that Marcel enjoys seeing my mouth wrapped around another man’s dick, the fact that he revels in the sight of seeing my lips painted with another man’s semen, is what makes me desire him even more. Not many men could or would handle having their women—let alone giving her permission—to suck another man’s dick. And he damn sure wouldn’t be willing to kiss her with another man’s cum on her tongue. But Marcel…he’s uninhibited. Freaky. And secure enough in his manhood to enjoy it. Encourage it. And indulge in it.
“Oh, no,” I say, eyeing Mr. Sexy across the room. “The way he’s standing, all wide-legged and confident, tells me that whatever is hanging between those long legs of his is quite substantial.”
“Yeah, well. It’d better be.”
I grab his dick. Squeeze the head a few times. Then tell him I’ll be right back. He kisses me on the cheek, his hand gliding over the globes of my ass. “Go get ’im, baby.”
“I plan to,” I say, gulping down the rest of my drink, then pulling Marcel into me. “For the both of us.” I reach up and press my lips against his, parting them easily, my warm tongue prodding around his mouth before breaking free and prowling in the direction of the mystery man.
The smell of wet pussy and freshly fucked ass wafting around the room is intoxicating.
The thing I love most about sex clubs and private parties, there are no pretenses. No judgments. No limits. No shame. No room for games. No space for confusion. Everyone is always here for the same reasons, to fuck and be fucked shamelessly. To explore rapturous fantasies with whomever they choose. To be sexually fulfilled.
“You are one fine man,” I say, walking up to him. I am already wet, but now I’ve become wetter with eager anticipation. I set my empty glass on a nearby table.
He flashes a megawatt smile, revealing straight, white teeth. “And so are you, beautiful. I enjoyed the show.”
I smile, reaching for another flute of champagne as a bare-chested waiter in black tuxedo pants saunters by with a full tray. “Oh, there’s a whole lot more to see,” I assure him, my tone full of seduction and promise.
“Hmm. I love the sound of that.” He places his empty glass on the tray, taking another one full of bubbly. “So who’s the man I’ve watched you work the party with?” I tell him it’s my husband. He grins and nods his head in approval. “Aah. And he doesn’t want to join us?”
“Not at the moment.” My gaze, full of fire and hot desire, skims his body, pausing over what looks like a growing bulge, thick and heavy. “But he will, trust.”
He grins. “I look forward to it. The more the merrier.” He pulls in his bottom lip, slow and seductively.
I give him a knowing smile. “So, what shall we drink to?” I ask, reaching up and pulling the diamond hairclip from my hair, letting my hair cascade over my shoulders.
“Why not to a night full of endless possibilities,” he says with a wink.
I toss my hair, shamelessly flirting with this fine hunk of man. “Well, my husband and I”—I nod my head over in Marcel’s direction—“would love to end the night with you in our bed.”
He waits a beat, then glances over in Marcel’s direction, lifting his flute. Marcel returns the gesture, along with a head nod. He smiles, returning his attention to me.
“Oh, and what an endless night of possibilities it shall be.” His eyes scan my entire body, from head to toe. “I have a thing for pretty feet,” he says, licking his lips. “And beautiful, open-minded women.”
I grin, holding his gaze. “And I have a thing for fine men who aren’t afraid to indulge their desires. That’s a real turn-on. What are your desires, uh…I didn’t get your name.”
He grins back. “I didn’t give it. Names aren’t necessary. Just know I’m a freak, here looking for a good time. And I have a whole lot of energy for more than one round.”
“Okay, Mister-No-Name-Freak-Looking-For-A-Good-Time, what do you desire tonight?”
He glances back over at Marcel, who is being entertained by two buxom vixens wearing nothing but glitter and gold body paint over their gym-Pilates-toned bodies.
A sly smile eases over my moist lips as I eye Marcel slide both his hands in between each of their legs. The two sex kittens lean in and kiss. And I swallow, imagining the feel of their warm flesh against his fingers, imagining the taste of their wetness on my own fingers, on my tongue.
