The Printer’s Secret Saturday
For nearly a year, I had worked as the sole employee at Ricardo’s printing shop. It was a quiet existence until Flor began arriving on Saturday afternoons. Ricardo introduced her as his mistress, claiming she was a married woman risking everything for him. However, I knew the truth; Flor was a gymnastics instructor and Ricardo’s actual wife. I kept the secret, playing along with my boss’s fantasies as he bragged about her insatiable nature.
The dynamic shifted when Ricardo suggested a photo session. Flor arrived wearing sheer, silk lingerie that left nothing to the imagination. Her athletic body was a masterpiece of toned curves and glowing skin. As I captured her through the lens, the tension in the room became electric. I could feel their eyes on me, noting my obvious arousal. It became clear that the “mistress” story was a ruse—a game designed to lure me into their private world of pleasure.
The session evolved from photography to tactile exploration. Ricardo encouraged me to apply oils to Flor’s skin, guiding my hands over her firm breasts and sculpted hips. The air grew thick with desire as they revealed their true intention: they wanted to share her. Ricardo’s voice was a low murmur, urging me to give in to the temptation of his wife’s body.
The boundaries dissolved completely when champagne was poured over Flor’s skin. I abandoned the camera, tasting the sweet liquor and the salt of her skin. My tongue explored every inch of her, from the swell of her breasts to the heat between her thighs. When she finally stripped me of my clothes, her eyes sparked with a predatory hunger. She knelt before me, her mouth welcoming me with an intensity that left me breathless.
Under Ricardo’s watchful and approving gaze, I claimed her. The connection was explosive, a collision of raw need and mutual consent. I drove into her with a passion I had never known, her tight heat enveloping me as she cried out in ecstasy. Ricardo watched, his own pleasure derived from the sight of another man worshiping his wife. He whispered words of encouragement, urging Flor to take everything I had to give.
The afternoon became a blur of shifting positions and shared heat. After a period of recovery, Flor took control, mounting me with a fierce energy. In a moment of pure lust, she guided me into her tight rear, a sensation so intense it pushed me to the brink of delirium. As I filled her, Ricardo showered her with champagne, the three of us locked in a cycle of hedonistic bliss.
When the sun began to set, I retreated to the bath, leaving the couple to their affectionate whispers and celebratory toasts. I had entered the shop as a mere employee, but I left as a participant in their secret ritual. Every Saturday since has become a sanctuary of desire, where the truth of their marriage is celebrated through the pleasure of a third.