Elena lounged across the velvet chaise, her silk robe slipping just enough to hint at the curves beneath, eyes locked on Marcus with a predator's smirk. "You want me tonight? Then earn it. Sit, listen, and try not to drool while I recount every cock that's ever stretched my pussy."
Marcus shifted, already hard beneath his slacks, but she raised a finger. "No touching yet. First, the details."
She sipped her wine, voice sharp and teasing. "There was the banker with the thick, veiny beast—girth like a fist, smelled of expensive cologne and musk that made my mouth water. I gave him the sloppiest blowjob in his corner office; he came so hard I had to swallow twice. Aggressive? He gripped my hair like he owned the world, but I owned him."
Marcus groaned. "Elena, you're killing me."
"Good," she purred, leaning closer, her breath hot. "Then the surfer—lean, salty cock that dripped with ocean and sweat. Not the biggest, but he fucked like the tide: relentless. My ass still remembers his hands slapping it red while I rode him reverse, pussy dripping down his thighs. He panted like a dog when I told him exactly how to thrust."
She stood, robe falling open, revealing her glistening skin. "The chef's was curved just right, hit every spot. Smelled like garlic and sin; I sucked it clean after he came on my tongue. Horny little thing, always begging, but I made him work for my wet heat."
Marcus was panting now, cock straining visibly. "Enough stories. I need you."
Elena laughed, witty and commanding. "Oh, you think you're ready? Prove it. Strip." As he obeyed, she pushed him down, straddling his lap, her pussy already dripping onto his hard length. "This one's mine to describe later—girth promising, veins throbbing. But first, feel how soaked I am for the finale."
Their mouths crashed together, hands exploring, sweat beading as the real explosion ignited.
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