Erotic massage for wife
Ann climbed the jade staircase and blissfully stretched, finding herself on a sun-warmed, intricate mosaic. The warmth quickly spread from her feet to her body, and the slight chill from bathing was replaced by a feeling of freshness. The park was quite dense, but through the foliage, the sound of the ocean was clearly audible; sometimes it even seemed that the warm breeze carried
droplets of salty moisture. The attendants dried her with soft towels and dressed her in a silk tunic with the hotel's gold monograms.She and her husband had already been living in Monaco, at the Royal Paradise Resort, for three months, awaiting a meeting with an investor, the Prince of Monaco. The hotel was located somewhat away from the city, one could say on the outskirts, if you could call a place 3 km from the palace that. However, it wasn't boring—three times during this period they had driven to Paris in a rented car. Despite everything, it pleasantly surprised her, especially the shops. In recent years, their business had been thriving, so she denied herself nothing, and her hotel wardrobe was already packed to the brim with new outfits and various interesting little things.
By now, she had already grown accustomed to the trappings of elevated, one might even say royal, service. Masseurs, attendants, sommeliers, her own hairdresser, a driver. She had managed to find herself a girlfriend to pass the time with while her husband was away for the long, by local tradition, negotiations. Or rather, they weren't exactly negotiations, but more like social conversations, tea parties, walks with the prince's representative. Sometimes her husband took her along when the format was family-oriented; other times she had to while away the hours on the beach or in the city with her new friend, who had moved from Russia on a marriage visa seven years ago. At first, she seemed like a rather strange creature to her, but later she realized that the degree of sexual freedom that frightened her was probably the norm for the coast.
It was already eight in the evening, and Ann hurried to the bar where she had arranged to meet her friend, as their husbands were participating in the royal regatta for the second day.
"Ann, you're early, my friend," Mei greeted her, "I thought I'd be sitting here waiting for you again." Mei smiled sincerely and plopped back down onto the bar sofa. A conversation about all sorts of nonsense immediately started up, the waiters expertly refilled their wine, and by eleven o'clock, thoroughly tipsy, they decided to head to the room, to the coolness of the air conditioning, and chat a bit more there before Mei would head home to the city.
The conversation smoothly flowed from one topic to another until the wine finally began to call the girls to sleep. Mei was already starting to gather her things when a new topic about sex in Monaco revived the chatter again:
"I'll never believe it!" Ann objected with delighted disbelief, "You've got a porn set here, not a resort!"
"No, they really do it, it's normal," Mei argued enthusiastically, "let me show you!" She slid down to her friend's feet and ran her finger along the center line from her breasts all the way down. Ann, not expecting such a reaction from herself, arched her back in pleasure; what she had drunk that evening had lowered her critical threshold.
"See, it's a reflex! And they have lots of other tricks," Mei began stroking the inside of Ann's thighs, moving higher and higher, lightly playing with her petals but not penetrating inside.
It felt pleasant, but she wasn't ready for such caresses. Suddenly, through the pleasant heaviness, a feeling of embarrassment and remorse broke through. Carefully, so as not to create a Situation, she moved her legs together and bent them at the knees.
Mei removed her hand and laughed cheerfully, completely missing her friend's embarrassment.
After chatting for about another hour, the girls managed to finish another bottle of wine, and Mei set off for the city.
Ann took a shower and was about to reflect on what had happened when the phone rang:
"Sunshine, my love, tomorrow is our wedding anniversary. I've prepared a surprise for you, a girls' night for my queen, don't be bored!"
"Oh, come on, what is it, what is it?" she tried to pry out the secret, but her husband wouldn't give in.
Ann loved both surprises and her husband. Intrigued, with pleasant anticipation, she began to wait for the promised delivery. Literally 10 minutes later, a bellboy rang the bell (it wasn't customary to knock on doors in the hotel—special bells were provided for that) and brought in a large chocolate cake decorated with cherries, a huge bouquet of special Monacan orchids, wine, tea, and a large pink box.
She impatiently tore off the wrapping. Inside, among rose petals, lay a delicate pink silk negligee trimmed with black lace, a transparent bottle with liquid and jasmine petals floating in it, a sleep mask, a disc, a candle, and a bell.
She thoughtfully bit her lip. "A surprise with a riddle. What a beautiful negligee!" She put it on and twirled in front of the mirror. Pleased with her appearance, she walked over to the media center and inserted the disc. "Oh! The sound of rain and music, just like back home!" She glanced at the box again and laughed merrily. She lit the candle, thoughtfully walked around the cake, scooped up a cherry with a dessert spoon, and washed it down with wine. The wine was dry. "An interesting combination." She scooped up two more cherries and again washed them down with wine. With some excitement, she picked up the bell, clasped it in her palm so it wouldn't accidentally ring, checked that the room door was closed, sat on the bed, and put on the mask. Below, a sweet heaviness suddenly ached; she felt her lips swell and become moist. Ann lay down in bed, lowered her hand between her legs, and began to caress herself, first through the negligee, then lifting it over her panties, and when they got in the way completely, she took them off, not paying attention to the bell that fell with a soft ring.
Her movements became more and more impetuous, her breathing quickened; she was nearing climax but couldn't quite finish.
Suddenly, a strong hand covered her mouth, and another lay over her right hand, deeply plunging it and its own fingers into her womb. "It's me," her husband's voice whispered in her ear, "don't get distracted." She obediently continued to caress herself, following his commanding hand, which set a slightly slower pace than she was used to. From desire, she completely lost touch with reality and didn't immediately notice that four hands were caressing her at once. But she no longer cared; she was in the power of her man, under his protection; she felt good, and all she could be aware of were the gentle nibbles on her nipples, the strong hands penetrating deeper into her womb, hands touching her bottom, thighs, breasts, hands intertwining with hers, hands pressing down her neck—they were everywhere.
She felt a hot head press against her lips and greedily seized it. From the familiar, pungent taste in her mouth, she almost came and began to suck it, taking it deeper and deeper, barely catching her breath.
Suddenly, she felt something monstrously large and hot persistently parting her buttocks, slick with her own wetness. She didn't even have time to relax; a thrust, and her breath caught in surprise. She had never felt anything so large there before. It seemed to her it would tear her delicate flesh apart at the first movement. Instinctively, she tried to pull away, to rid herself of this barbaric invasion, but the head, swollen with desire, wouldn't let her. Carefully, she began to move back and forth along this shaft, feeling it move inside her, filling her completely. She forgot about her husband's cock, began moving her hips more and more frequently to meet the stranger's motion. Her bottom was sore, but at the same time, her lips swelled almost to the point of pain, and she felt she would come just from being touched there, though no one was caressing her there anymore. The stranger's hands rested on her hips, setting the pace, while her husband only caressed her breasts. She moaned, and as if in response to her moan, the stranger made several sharp movements and pulsed inside her, spilling his semen without pulling out, right into her bottom.