Lace & Leverage: A Trophy Wife's Night

The air hung thick with the scent of expensive perfume and nervous anticipation as my husband, Mark, and I navigated the crowded cocktail party. He’d insisted on dragging me along, claiming it was essential for networking, while I mostly enjoyed observing the parade of impeccably dressed men and women. The whole affair felt like a calculated performance, a display of wealth and status. Mark, ever the pragmatist, was focused on cultivating relationships, while I found a strange thrill in playing the role of his trophy wife – a joke we’d established between us years ago. He'd often teased that he’d chosen me precisely because of my appearance, a playful jab that never felt malicious. He was a good man, a provider, a lover, a devoted father, and a loyal friend, a true partner in every sense of the word.

As I adjusted the sleek black silk dress he’d purchased for the event, I couldn’t help but admire its ability to sculpt my figure. The dress clung to my curves, highlighting my assets from my bust to my hips, with a subtle dip at the waist that flattered my form. It wasn't overly revealing, maintaining an air of sophisticated elegance, while simultaneously stirring a primal desire within me. As I reached for the gold choker around my neck, Mark’s presence behind me sent a shiver down my spine. He pressed against me, his arousal palpable as he leaned in, his penis hardening against my rear. The sensation was both unsettling and intensely stimulating. My own body responded instinctively, a wave of heat washing over me. I could feel the anticipation building, the promise of something more than just polite conversation.

“No panties yet?” Mark whispered, his voice a low rumble against my skin. The question hung in the air, laced with a playful challenge. I knew exactly what he meant. This was part of the game, a slow build of desire and anticipation. “I can’t decide what panties to wear tonight,” I admitted, letting the words drip with a hint of vulnerability. It was a calculated admission, a plea for his help in navigating the delicious tension.

His hands moved with deliberate care, pulling up the hem of my dress and gently tracing the contours of my butt and thighs. Mark knew exactly how easily I became aroused under his touch, the subtle exploration of my flesh a potent form of pleasure. I shifted my stance, arching slightly, hoping to elicit a more intense response. My wet spot, already glistening with anticipation, seemed to beckon him closer. One of his hands found its way to the top of my slit, his fingers teasing and caressing, igniting a fire within me. I closed my eyes, biting my lower lip, lost in the exquisite sensation. As he continued to kiss my thighs, the anticipation reached a fever pitch.

“I’ll help you pick your panties, if you would like,” Mark whispered, his voice laced with invitation. The offer was both tempting and slightly shocking. I hesitated for a moment, caught between the desire to submit completely and the instinct to maintain control. But ultimately, I succumbed to the allure of the moment. I reached for the drawer filled with a tempting array of lace panties, selecting a pair of black lace numbers that felt impossibly soft against my skin. As Mark walked away, I felt a pang of loneliness, a brief flicker of longing for his presence. The dress, undoubtedly beautiful, felt incomplete without his touch. The urge to masturbate, a familiar and insistent companion, grew stronger, but I resisted, determined to maintain the intensity of our game.

I pulled on the lace panties, the fabric clinging to my mound as I waited for Mark's return. The sensation was exquisite, a prelude to the pleasure that awaited. My body continued to hum with a restless energy, a tangible reflection of my heightened state of arousal. I thought about Mark standing behind me, the memory of his touch still fresh on my skin. I thought about the dance we had shared, his hands sculpting my body, his lips teasing my flesh. The scene replayed in my mind, fueling my desire and intensifying my anticipation.

“I don’t want you to be bored tonight, I want you to stay hot and hungry,” Mark said, his voice a low murmur as he found me near the door, holding my coat. He helped me into the garment, his hands brushing against my breast, continuing to sculpt my figure as we moved through the crowd. The encounter was brief but electrifying, a reminder of his power and control. Blindly following him, I felt a surge of both excitement and apprehension. The game was escalating, and I was eager to see where it would lead.

As we arrived at a secluded corner of the party, Mark took my hand and guided me down a dimly lit hallway. The atmosphere shifted, becoming more intimate and private. Just as I was beginning to lose my bearings, he opened a door and pushed me through into a small, opulent room. The room was dark, filled with plush velvet furniture and a lingering scent of expensive cologne. It felt like a secret sanctuary, a space designed for pleasure and indulgence.

He knelt before me, his hands reaching up to lift my dress, revealing my wet spot. The sight of my aroused body sent a jolt of electricity through me. Mark’s fingers danced across my clitoris and the sensitive folds of my vulva, teasing and caressing, igniting a crescendo of desire within me. As I arched back, moaning with pleasure, his touch intensified, drawing me deeper into the moment. The world narrowed, focusing solely on the exquisite sensation of his hands on my body.

“I want to come, baby,” Mark whispered, his voice raw with need. His words hung in the air, a declaration of his intention. He took his fingers and returned to the dance floor with my pussy. Within seconds I was climaxing and my muscles were convulsing in pleasure. I grabbed on to his shoulders. I was moaning as silently as I could. My husband stood up and undid his pants and they dropped. His hard erection hungered for my food. He took my panties and hung them on his penis. He turned me around and lifted my dress again. He rammed me hard and I squeezed his hard manhood. I found myself climaxing again.

The feel of his hardness and my panties was amazingly erotic. He shot his love juice in me. I was not bedded I was loved right there in that closet standing up. My juices and his juices were cleaned up with my panties. He asked me to put them back on all wet with our loving. I did. As the party continued, I met and greeted his boss, his clients, their wives. All I could think about was my husband. I thought I might calm down. Instead I was like a tiger in heat. I was in a state of melting for my man and the wet panties were getting wetter.

The party was ending and my husband and I left. I was still hot. I turned to him and gave a sultry look. “Take off your panties. Give them to me,” he said. He took them and smelled our sex. His erection was clear. He asked me to play with myself while he just enjoyed smelling my panties. I did. Soon, I was near another climax. “Do you want me to come?” I asked. “Yes” He took his fingers and returned to the dance floor with my pussy. Within seconds I was climaxing and my muscles were convulsing in pleasure. I grabbed on to his shoulders. I was moaning as silently as I could. My husband stood up and undid his pants and they dropped. His hard erection hungered for my food. He took my hand and guided me down a hallway. He looked around opened a door and pushed me through. It was dark and I couldn’t see where we were. It didn’t matter. In the next minute, my husband was on his knees in front of me pushing up my dress with his hands. He pulled my wet panties out of his coat pocket and caressed my butt with them. I felt how wet they still were. My husband’s tongue started to lick my woman place, while I was feeling my wet panties against my thighs.

I wondered how long was this game going to go on? Did he want me to orgasm or not. I was starving! Was he going to feed me? “I want to come, baby.” He said. He took his fingers and returned to the dance floor with my pussy. Within seconds I was climaxing and my muscles were convulsing in pleasure. I grabbed on to his shoulders. I was moaning as silently as I could. My husband stood up and undid his pants and they dropped. His hard erection hungered for my food. He took my hand and guided me down a hallway. He looked around opened a door and pushed me through. It was dark and I couldn’t see where we were. It didn’t matter. In the next minute, my husband was on his knees in front of me pushing up my dress with his hands. He pulled my wet panties out of his coat pocket and caressed my butt with them. I felt how wet they still were. My husband’s tongue started to lick my woman place, while I was feeling my wet panties against my thighs.

The feel of his hardness and my panties was amazingly erotic. He shot his love juice in me. I was not bedded I was loved right there in that closet standing up. My juices and his juices were cleaned up with my panties. He asked me to put them back on all wet with our loving. I did.

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