My First Orgy Awakening in the 18th-Century Manor
That 18th-century manor, with its pine-shaded park, still haunts my dreams. Early morning light filtered through half-open shutters. Eros slept like a god after our torrid night. Heart fluttering, I slipped naked under satin sheets. Nipples grazed his sun-kissed skin. Fingers traced thighs, belly. No turning back. I engulfed his pulsing cock, tongue swirling. He pretended sleep, savoring. Hand cupped balls, teased his tight hole. Gland swelled pink under my lips. Shaft stretched endless. Spasms hit. Hot spurts filled my throat. Gulped every drop. Licked clean. He dozed off, conquered.
Proud, pink tulle nightie barely covering, I roamed high-ceilinged corridors. Painted walls, plaster moldings. Sighs echoed next door. Peeked: Psyche, Eros’s cousin, naked on four-poster, legs splayed. Junon knelt, lapping her slick pussy. Penance for stealing Imeros. A man mounted Junon doggy. Whispers hinted more shadows.
The Approach: Tension Builds in the Shadows
Better view adjacent room. Kneeling on Louis XV armchair, hidden behind backrest. Heart thumped wild. Sisters side-by-side on knees, asses jiggling, giggling invites. Ten men rotated, slamming deep. Moans, cheers. Pussy drenched watching.
Breath hot on neck. Turned: Imeros, fury in eyes. Hands gripped waist. He glared at betrayal – his women railed by friends. Scene shifted: sisters sucked cocks, took it from behind. Pulse raced. No escape. His grip tightened. Fear mixed thrill. This unknown pulled me in.
