Publié le 17 avril 2025
0 Commentaires

Long before Mr. R created the Lux, his partner and he, immersed in the exploration of the libertine world, had been contacted by Léa and Thomas, a novice couple in this universe. Their curiosity, mixed with burning nervousness, had captivated them during a first meeting over a drink. Between laughter and secrets, they had shared their fantasy of a naughty photo session, without knowing a photographer to enhance their nascent audacity. This idea had been anchored in the mind of Monsieur R.

A few weeks later, he offered them a dinner at home, with a surprise: his childhood friend, Arnaud, a legendary photographer in the libertine environment, would be present. His shots seized desire in a pure state, transforming every moment into a work of debauchery. Léa and Thomas accepted their sparkling eyes with anticipation.

They arrived at the end of the afternoon, an electrical energy in their gestures. Léa was a vision: a sculptural silhouette, a provocative smile, and a shyness that gave birth to a naughty ready to explode. Thomas observed, fascinated, but still unconscious of the audacity that his wife was going to reveal. Arnaud transformed the show into a studio, and the photo shoot started. Under the flashes, Léa turned out. His poses, first hesitant, became obscene, his eyes launching hot challenges. The companion of Mr. R, an accomplice, encouraged him, and the atmosphere embraced, saturated with indecent promises.

After two hours of shots, the energy was at its zenith. Mr. R proposed a break: "Everyone is hungry?" Pizzas, are you tempted? The "yes" were not waiting. He went to the pizzeria but returned his hands empty, letting the pizzaiolo bring them. Back, he felt the heavy atmosphere of raw desire. A smile on his lips, he turned to women: "Girls, want to play?" Their eyes ignited, a mixture of stress and animal excitement. He continued: "Pizzaiolo arrives with the pizzas. He is handsome man, and the pizzas are not yet paid. It's up to you to make us offer these pizzas… "

Adrien, Thomas and Monsieur R took place on the terrace, extinct lights, to observe the scene as eager spectators. Thomas, his eyes wide, did not believe his eyes, he had never imagined that his wife, Lea, would dare to embark on such a game.

When the pizzaiolo rang, holding five smoking boxes, the girls came into play with an audacity that increased the temperature to the extreme. Léa, first reserved, let herself be consumed by the assurance of the partner of Mr. R. They welcomed him with smiles which did not deceive, their bodies brushing hers. The partner of Mr. R, unbanked, unbuttoned her shirt, while she whispered obscenities. Léa, on fire, tore off her blouse, revealing her heavy breasts in black lace, her hard nipples like pearls, and her raised skirt letting see her soaked, shiny pussy, her swollen clitoris thrilling under the light, her ass already ajar by excitement.

Seduction rocked in an orgy of a raw indecency. The girls knelt in front of the pizzaiolo, their hungry mouths approaching his crotch. The partner of Mr. R, voracious, confused his jeans, releasing a steep and thrilling tail. She engulfs her, her tongue swirling around her glans, her lips stretching to swallow her to her throat, while Léa, her cheeks on fire, licked her balls with bitch groans, her fingers spreading her own disgusting pussy, her juice running on her thighs, her gaping ass shying with envy. They alternated, their languages ​​mixing on his sex, their saliva mixing in a pornographic ballet, their eyes crossing with complicity. The pizzaiolo, on the verge of ecstasy, growled, his hands grabbing their hair. Thomas, petrified, stared at Léa, his disbelief mingling with a growing fascination with an unknown facet of his wife.

The girls, insatiable, pushed the pizzaiolo on the ground, his muscular body spanning the carpet. Léa, in a trance, climbed on him, spreading her thighs to take her tail on her tail, her soaked pussy swallowed him up with a cry of pleasure, her intimate lips open widely around him, her bouncing ass thrashing with each kidney stroke, her anus thrilling under the effort. The partner of Monsieur R, insatiable, settled on her face, her leading pussy pressed against her mouth, her swollen clitoris rubbing against her tongue, her lifting open ass of wet. Pizzaiolo, unleashed, licked her like a hungry, her tongue plunging into her damp folds, her nose buried in her anus, while she arched, her heavy breasts dancing with each spasm. The girls, face to face, kissed, their tongues wrapping, their fingers scribbling their nipples, their pussies dripping on the pizzaiolo.

The fire went up again. The girls descended from the pizzaiolo and collapsed on the ground in a 69 obscene. Léa, on all fours, plunged her tongue into the pussy of Monsieur R's partner, licking her swollen clitoris, drinking her juice flowing with waves, her fingers spreading her ass to drive her tongue. The partner of Monsieur R, under her, spread the buttocks of Léa, his tongue sinking into her open anus, her fingers kissing her soaked pussy, her thrilling walls tightening her phalanges. Their convulled bodies, their cries muffled by their mouths stuck to their sexes, they devoured themselves with a frenzy of nymphomaniacs, their cats and their exposed asses, shiny with wet and saliva. The pizzaiolo, hypnotized, got up, its thrilling tail. He took Léa first, penetrating her from behind, her pussy opening like a flower under her brutal blows, her ass slamming against her basin, her anus welcoming a finger. Then he went to the partner of Monsieur R, lifting her to kiss her standing, his hands spreading her buttocks, while her dripping pussy surrounded her tail. The girls, between two penetrations, caressed each other, their fingers plunging into their soaked pussies, their languages ​​tracing furrows on their prospects offered. Thomas, still on the terrace, was speechless, his mind unable to reconcile the image of his reserved wife with this depraved goddess who gave herself without restraint.

The climax was approaching. The girls knelt in front of the pizzaiolo, their mouths wide open, their tense languages, their hot eyes of challenge. He jerked off in front of them, his fist tightening his swollen tail, his hoarse breath filling the room. The companion of Monsieur R, depraved, grabbed the breasts of Léa, twisting her nipples, while Léa, in heat, drunk three fingers in her own pussy, her juice flowing on the ground. With a roar, the pizzaiolo exploded, its sperm spurting in burning jets on their lips, their languages, their faces. They swallowed it, their mouths meeting for a dripping kiss, their fingers picking up the cum to lick it, their soaked pussies still punching with desire.

The pizzaiolo, emptied, stretched the five pizzas offered to them, a blissful smile on their face. Back on the terrace, the three men burst out laughing, sharing the pizzas in an overwhelming atmosphere. Léa, the cheeks on fire, radiated with new insurance. Thomas, still in shock, could not detach her eyes from her, her amazement mixed with new admiration for this woman whom he would rediscover. This evening, long before the creation of Lux, had changed in a whirlwind of raw lust, an incandescent memory engraved in the heat of a summer night.

Léa learned a few months later that this pizzaiolo was actually an accomplice of Mr. R who never left anything by chance ...