Pierre Spends A Hot Evening In A Club In Paris

Pierre’s off to Paris for some vote-counting circus and leaves his blushing wife behind in the Alpes-Maritimes with nothing but a kiss on the cheek. Same drill every time—bag’s barely packed before he ducks into his favorite strip club downtown. The lights are hot, the music loud, and it’s never long before some girl wearing more perfume than actual clothes hovers at his table. Tonight he buys the whole bottle. She winks, slides her skimpy G-string aside, straddles his lap with thighs spread wide, and grinds her warm bare pussy right onto the growing bulge in his trousers until the lace is slick. In one practiced move she pops her tiny bra, pressing full breasts to his face. Tongue out, he licks each stiff pink nipple, sucking till she moans like an elevator buzzer. She grabs his belt, frees his cock, spits a fat drop of saliva onto the tip, then sheathes him slowly while giving the bouncer a wink over her shoulder. He fucks up into her in short hungry thrusts, her juices running down his balls and staining the leather seat, her fingernails clawing his shoulders. She leans in, breath hot in his ear, whispering dirty impossibilities about the filthy things she’ll do on his next visit while her tight cunt milks every spasm out of him.