Brandon poured another round at the hotel bar, the anniversary champagne long forgotten. "Twenty years, Alisha. Let's keep it classy—dinner, then bed." Alisha's eyes sparkled with that dangerous glint, her red dress hugging every curve. "Classy is boring, babe. I want to dance. Club. Now."
They stumbled in tipsy, the bass throbbing. Lamar stood out immediately—tall, dark, commanding the floor with effortless rhythm. Alisha's gaze locked on him. "That one," she whispered, pulling Brandon close. "Watch this."
She sauntered over, witty banter flying: "You move like you own the night. Care to prove it?" Lamar grinned, hand on her waist. "Only if your man's okay with sharing the spotlight." Brandon shifted, uneasy. "She's mine, but she leads."
The dance turned electric. Alisha pressed back, grinding her ass against Lamar's hardening cock through his pants, her pussy already wet and dripping under the silk. She laughed sharply, "Feel that? My husband's watching, and it's making me horny as hell." Lamar's hands roamed, but Alisha controlled every sway, bold and unyielding.
Back at the hotel, the power had shifted. Alisha shoved Brandon onto the bed, stripping him with fierce intent. "You liked the show? Now take this." She straddled him, her pussy slick and dripping as she sank onto his throbbing cock. Panting, sweating, she rode hard, witty taunts spilling: "Think you can keep up after that tease?" Brandon groaned, gripping her ass while she took every inch, her strong thighs clenching. She came first, crying out, then milked him until he exploded, cum flooding her. The night had only begun.
Want to know how it ends?
This is just the opening chapter. Continue the saga — or write a steamy tale starring you.