Holding the door open for him, the doorman used his key card to swipe for access to the penthouse. “Go right up, Sir,” he said, slicing into Marcel’s lustful memory.
Marcel glanced at the man’s plated nametag. “Thanks, Stewart.”
“Hope you enjoy your visit,” he said.
“That’s the plan,” Marcel shot back, then smiled.
The doorman grinned slyly as if he knew something Marcel didn’t just as the elevators doors closed. Marcel’s dick throbbed harder. His balls ached so bad for release he could nut in his drawers right on the spot.
Nairobia stood naked in a pair of six-inch Louis Vuitton heels in the middle of her elaborate foyer when the elevator door finally slid open. She couldn’t wait to feel Marcel’s strong hands cupping her ass, kneading over her sensitive flesh. Parting, spreading; his tongue licking the opening of her pussy and nudging inward pulling out to lick over her clit.
She decided she wouldn’t be a selfish lover…not tonight. Her intention had been to simply lower her kut down over his face and feed him her sweet, juicy sex. But as she waited for his arrival, her desire to taste him—again—intensified. So she now intended to suck his cock into her mouth. Thick veins roped around a big thick dick, she planned on licking up and down the length of him with her tongue, bathing him with her spit and drool and heat.
Marcel watched her smile with feline cunning, before her voice floated over toward him in a husky whisper as she said, “What took you so long, my darling, MarSell? Mijn natte kut heeft gewacht voor u…”
Yes. Her wet pussy had been waiting for him, for his tongue, for his fingers…for a blissful release. Marcel looked her over from head to toe as he stalked toward her, loosening his tie, unbuttoning his custom-tailored shirt. He knew very little Dutch, but he smelled her arousal, saw the flames of desire swooping up around her, and knew her pussy needed some tender loving just as much as his hard cock did. Seeing her completely naked, ready and waiting to be served up like a delightful feast was what he craved. She was every horny man’s wet dream.
Her nipples were erect, plump like two juicy, seedless grapes. And Marcel couldn’t wait to taste them, to lick them, to pop them into his wet mouth.
He pulled off his tie. Yanked open the buttons of his shirt. Then pulled his crisp white T-shirt out from the waistband of his slacks and dragged it upward, revealing smooth chocolate skin, flat abdominal muscles. He threw his shirt carelessly to the floor.
“Je ne peux pas attender de lécher ta chatte,” he said as he prowled closer. Oh how he couldn’t wait to lick her pussy. He wanted to lick her to climax.
He swiped his tongue over his lips.
He was so close that Nairobia could smell the crisp scent of his cologne and the musky heat of his skin. She couldn’t take it any longer. This torture, these slow ticks of the second hand. It was all too much for her.
Marcel’s manhood swelled and strained against the fabric of his pants. Nairobia’s gaze shifted to his crotch, then down the length of his right thigh. There it was. So long, so thick, so, so…snakelike. She couldn’t wait to suck its head into her mouth.
As Marcel stalked closer, Nairobia backed up a step, then another, lifting her right breast up, extending her tongue and licking around her areola. Her nipple.
She licked it until it pebbled into a hard bead. Then smiled at Marcel. He groaned, arousal and jealousy swimming in his dark eyes. He wanted his mouth, his tongue where hers had been.
He reached for her. Not a word was said when he pulled her into him, against his hard body. Nairobia’s breath caught. His masculinity, his manliness, his powerful existence, overwhelmed her senses. And she felt herself melting against him.
She drew up on her tiptoes. “I will love you with my mouth and tongue,” she whispered. She licked at the shell of his ear. “Then capture you in the back of my throat and swallow your sweet milk.”
She pressed her lips against his, then kissed him senseless. As she pried his mouth open with her tongue and slid inside, she could taste the hint of peppermint and cognac. Her eyes turned somnolent with desire as Marcel groaned, his lips pressing harder.
Within seconds, Nairobia’s hand snaked its way between his thighs and her fingers curled around his cock, stretching to his knee. She’d never quite mastered sucking the entire length of him into her mouth. Eleven inches, the most. But tonight she promised herself she’d choke to death trying to swallow the remaining two inches.
When she broke the kiss, he smiled down at her. Then whispered, “Ik wil al je pik in mijn natte mond.” She wanted all of his cock inside her wet mouth. And she found herself becoming crazed with want. She stroked him several times for emphasis, before he removed her hand, then brought it up to his lips. He kissed the inside of her palm. Then let his hands travel along the curves of her body. He grabbed her at the hips, then lowered himself until he was eye level to her sweet cunt.