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Marcel leans in, kisses me, tongues me, then does the same to Nairobia. She hums deep in her throat, her cunt contracting around our probing digits, causing my own pussy to pulse. And thicken with desire.
“Spread your legs wider,” I urge. She is close to coming. I can smell it, feel it, around our fingers as she thrusts her hips; four fingers fucking into her juicy cunt. The sound of wet pussy swallowing our fingers causes a deep throb to take root inside of me.
“Yeah, baby, nut on these fingers,” Marcel murmurs, his voice deep and husky. “Bust that pussy for me, baby…”
And she does.
Like a tidal wave, warm juices erupt, washing over our fingers, soaking our hands. Nairobia squirts and shudders and gasps. Her skin flushes hot. And then she comes again.
A few seconds later, when her body is no longer trembling, when her cunt is vacant from our prodding fingers, Nairobia kisses us both, whispering promises of sweet, nasty things to come, then floats away.
“Damn, I love how wet her pussy gets,” Marcel says, kissing me, then pressing his cum-slick fingers to my lips, offering me Nairobia’s cunt juice. I suck his fingers into my mouth, sweeping my tongue around his fingers.
He smiles, and I moan as he pulls his wet fingers from my mouth. “Mmm, and she tastes so good.”
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 th
em 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.
