Lewis and Rachel stepped into the dimly lit lounge expecting craft cocktails and jazz, only to freeze as leather harnesses and writhing bodies came into view. "Well, this is awkward," Lewis muttered, tugging at his collar. Rachel arched a brow, her red lips curving into a sly smile. "We already bought the drinks, darling. Let's finish them— it'll make one hell of a dinner-party story." She sauntered to a velvet booth, sipping her martini with deliberate poise. A low moan echoed from the shadows. Then a thick, veiny cock pushed through a hole in the wall, hard and glistening. Rachel's gaze locked on it; heat flooded her pussy, wetness dripping down her thighs as she felt herself grow unbearably horny. "Look at that," she purred, voice sharp with wit. "Someone's eager to join date night. Should I leave it hanging, or give it the attention it clearly craves?" Lewis blinked, sweating. "Rach, we should go—" "Shh," she cut in, standing tall, not submissive in the slightest. "Watch and learn." She crossed the room, dropping to her knees with commanding grace, her hand wrapping the hard shaft. Panting softly, she licked the tip before taking it deep into her mouth for a slow, teasing blowjob. The stranger groaned; Rachel's ass swayed as she worked him, her free hand sliding between her legs to feel how wet and dripping she was. Lewis shifted, transfixed, as she bobbed faster, tongue swirling. "Fuck, it's so hard," she gasped between strokes, cum already beading at the tip. She sucked harder, relentless, until the cock pulsed and came in hot spurts across her tongue. Rachel swallowed with a wicked grin, rising to face her husband, eyes blazing. "Your turn to get involved—or just enjoy the show?" The night had only begun its slide into cuckolding depravity.
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