Twisted Love
For success, for him, I will be both the flame and the moth, tirelessly dancing until dawn. In this gilded cage of ambition, I am the unspoken clause in every deal, a siren among the unsuspecting.
I'm the jewel in his crown, the ultimate trophy wife.
My husband loves to show me off and pass me around.
He revels in the shock on onlookers' faces as they marvel and indulge in my unwavering devotion as my husband's loyal consort.
The depths of my submission, my duty to him, are unfathomable, a testament to our unorthodox union.
My husband beams at me as he drapes an arm around me and casually nicks my camisole strap off my shoulder, remarking how I am his most prized asset, his words a velvet caress.
The contractor, caught in our intimate exchange, shifts uneasily, his eyes darting.
The sly grin that plays on my husband's lips promises an evening woven with debauchery.
When my husband and I first crossed paths, my allure wasn't merely skin-deep.
My affluent heritage mirrored the opulence he sought.
Our combined wealth and power have entranced many.
Now, with ambitions set on a towering new venture, he plans to harness my charm, weaving it skillfully to captivate the contractor's favor.
For my family's triumph, I'll cross any line and fulfill any desire.
To keep my husband pleased, I'll transcend every boundary.
My husband presents the contractor with a drink before guiding him into the parlor, a silent promise of the night's unfolding intrigue.
Leading the way, my husband playfully fondles my ass, his boldness on full display before the contractor igniting my cheeks with a shy blush.
I respond with a light giggle as I swat teasingly at my husband's hand.
At the parlor's threshold, my husband pauses, a gallant gesture as he holds the door, a twinkle in his eye at the contractor's visible discomfiture.
Inside, he gestures grandly for the contractor to take a seat opposite me, an orchestrated dance of power and persuasion.
The contractor complies, a polite smile masking his unease.
The glass cradled in his grasp, a silent ally, may yet melt away his reservations.
Beside me, my husband settles, casting an exaggerated, lewd gaze playfully upon my bosom, sparking shared laughter between us with his whimsy.
Briefly, he veers into business with the contractor, the atmosphere casual yet charged, before his attention returns to me, doting with theatrical flair.
With a jest, he tells the contractor he chose me for my beauty—a joke laced with truth, eliciting from me a knowing chuckle.
The contractor joins in, his laughter strained, tinged with unease, a subtle dance of discomfort under our intimate spectacle.
My husband's hand reassures my shoulder as his lips meet mine in a tender peck.
My husband's praise of my beauty escalates, each word more intimate than the last, weaves a spell of palpable tension.
The contractor, adrift in our intimate storm, sips his drink.
A mask of politeness thinly veils his turmoil.
The praise from my husband is followed up with a deeper kiss, a bold claim that leaves the air charged.
He retreats, leaving me adrift and seeking his navigational guidance.
My husband probes the contractor about his marital status, to which a non-committal reply slips out, punctuated with an admission of my allure and his agreement with my husband about my beauty…
Grasping my hand, my husband beckons me to rise, offering the contractor a smile laced with salacious triumph.
The contractor's gaze lingers, ripe with curiosity.
At my husband's behest, I perform a slow, deliberate turn, an exhibition of compliance.
When directed by my husband to show the contractor more of my assets, I catch the contractor's widened eyes, a silent testament to his astonishment at my subservience as I bend over, revealing that I am not wearing any panties.
My husband's gleaming smile reveals his delight in the contractor's subdued, captivated reaction.
My husband, savoring the moment, recommends I kneel on the sofa to give the man a proper view.
I move gracefully to fulfill my husband's request.
I kneel on the sofa with my knees far enough apart to give the contractor a picturesque view of my ass and pussy, each motion a dance of dutiful elegance.
Now a canvas of disbelief and intrigue, the contractor's face speaks volumes, revealing the tempestuous waves beneath his poised exterior.
My husband then commands that I go to where the contractor is seated and express our gratitude for the contractor's diligent efforts; he has invested in constructing the new Hi-Rise.
I approach the contractor, the embodiment of appreciation intertwined with the elegance of a concubine.
The contractor's eyes grow even wider as he takes in the unfolding scenario, still grappling with the moment's reality…
And when I get to my knees between his legs and begin to unbuckle his belt, I notice the sweat on his brow.
I smile up at him with genuine graciousness as I begin to suck his cock.
The contractor loses his grip on being reserved as I run my tongue up the length of his cock while looking up at him graciously.
His eyes roll back in his head as he gasps, unconsciously squeezing me between his thighs as I take his cock deep in my throat.
My husband transforms into my private cheerleader, gleefully urging me from the sofa to suck the contractor's cock without reserve, his enthusiasm unbridled.
I take my time sucking and slurping the contractor's cock, ensuring my appreciation is fully conveyed.
Then, with a measured poise, I rise from my place between his legs, remove my camisole, and let my skirt fall to the floor.
The contractor groans deeply as I mount his rock-hard cock and begin to ride.
With his hands on my hips, I lean forward and place a tit in his mouth, which he greedily suckles, no longer self-conscious of my husband's presence.
I swivel my hips up and down his cock as he feasts on my perky breasts, his attention captivated by my tight pussy on his cock.
It's not long before I feel his grip tighten around my waist as he releases his seed into my pussy.
Following our farewells to the now appreciative contractor, I am unsurprised when my husband, with a sense of urgency, guides me swiftly back into the seclusion of the parlor…