A Second Outing
Her first success left Natalie soaring. The impressive stack of bills Victor had left on the nightstand, and the pleasant pulling sweetness low in her belly, proved to her that she had found the perfect balance between pleasure and profit. Not even a week passed before Natalie decided to repeat her triumphant experiment.
She chose the same luxurious lobby bar again. This time Natalie wore a clinging, ultra-short dress of thin red knit that emphasized every curve of her juicy body. She put on no underwear beneath it — only silk stockings with lace tops.
Natalie settled at the bar, ordered a glass of chilled white wine, and waited. Soon a stately man in an expensive suit came up to her; his name was Owen. A couple of routine compliments, some light flirting, an accidental touch on her thigh — and Natalie leaned in and quietly whispered into his ear her terms for continuing. Owen only smirked like a predator, paid for the drinks, and led her confidently toward the elevators. Natalie was savoring the prospect of another quick, passionate, profitable one-on-one meeting.
The Surprise Behind the Closed Door
When the electronic lock of the luxury suite beeped softly and Owen opened the door for her, Natalie stepped inside and instantly froze. Instead of a secluded, dimly lit bedroom she found herself in an enormous living room full of cheerful noise. At a table crowded with elite liquor sat four more men — Owen’s business partners. All of them were tipsy, jackets thrown off, shirt collars unbuttoned.
At the sight of Natalie walking in — in that revealing red dress under which every movement betrayed the absence of underwear — the men hummed their approval.
“Owen, you dog! What a trophy!” one of them shouted, appraising her full, excitingly heaving breasts and bare, juicy thighs.
For a second Natalie was lost, feeling the color of embarrassment flood her cheeks. Five rich, tipsy men were looking at her like an exquisite dish. But it was too late to retreat — and her professional thrill, together with a sudden surge of wild lust, won out. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and with a defiant, wicked smile stepped deeper into the room.
The Night Marathon
That night turned into one continuous, unrelenting hurricane of carnal madness for Natalie. The men had no intention of taking turns — they wanted to possess her luxurious body all together, here and now.
On the table: It all began right in the living room. They laid Natalie out on the polished wood of the dining table, unceremoniously shoving the glasses aside. While one of the men kissed her greedily, filling her mouth, two others entered her juicy holes at the same time. Natalie screamed in frenzy, her hips beating against the wood, her juices slicking the tabletop.
On the bed: Then the action moved to the huge bed in the bedroom. The men relieved each other without pause. They flipped Natalie over, put her on all fours, stretched her long, stockinged legs apart. She took their steel-hard cocks one after another, begging them to go deeper and harder.
On the rug: Tired of the bed, they drew her down onto the fluffy rug by the fireplace. There, in the soft light of the flames, Natalie knelt obediently while her face, breasts, and hair were painted with the first sticky ropes of cum, and behind her the next guest kept stretching her without pause.
On the balcony: Toward dawn, when the cool night air burst through the open doors, Owen pulled her out onto the top-floor balcony. Pressing Natalie — naked, trembling with cold and ecstasy — against the metal railing in full view of the drowsing city, he filled her cunt hard and deep while the other men watched the finale of that insane night with smiles.
The Morning Return
A taxi delivered Natalie to our entrance when the sun had already flooded the streets. She came into the apartment with quiet, unsteady steps. Her body positively ached with pleasant, draining exhaustion, and her legs wobbled slightly on their stiletto heels.
I was already awake, waiting for her in the living room. The moment Natalie crossed the threshold and looked at me, everything was clear without a word. Her red dress was crumpled and smelled of another man’s expensive cologne, tobacco smoke, and alcohol. Her dark hair was tangled, and on some strands characteristic sticky traces had dried.
When she slowly peeled the dress off, the picture of her night’s triumph appeared in all its wicked glory. Her full breasts, stomach, and neck were thickly covered with dried and still-wet white streaks of other men’s semen. Her stockings were torn, and the tender skin of her thighs bore red prints of strong male palms. From her wide-open, swollen pussy and her stretched ass, thick white streams of five different men’s cum slowly dripped, running down her juicy legs straight onto the parquet of the entryway.
Natalie smiled at me — tired, but incredibly satisfied — and held out a handbag stuffed to the top with large bills. She was completely spent, her body used to its limit, but in her clouded eyes burned the absolute, boundless happiness of a woman who had gotten everything she dreamed of.