Today was just another day. The kind where the TV murmurs in the background, and she walks barefoot through the apartment like it’s her private stage.
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She slipped the straps of her dress off her shoulders without warning. Let it fall to the floor in one smooth motion, like it meant nothing. All that was left was a tiny black thong. The kind that says: I know exactly what I’m doing to you.
Then she climbed onto me, straddling my lap, her thighs warm against mine.
“I have a trip,” she whispered, brushing her lips against my ear. “In two weeks.”
“Where?”
“Argentina.” She smiled, rocking just slightly. “Buenos Aires. Client meetings.”
I blinked. Tried to stay calm. She knew what that did to me.
“It’s just work,” she said sweetly. “Some dinners, maybe a few drinks after. A couple of the men down there are already being… attentive.”
Her hips pressed down just enough to make me feel pathetic.
“I’m gonna let them try,” she whispered. “Flirt with me. Compliment me. Buy me wine. And if they’re bold enough, I might let one of them take me upstairs.”
I was throbbing under her now.
“But that’s not the fun part,” she added, smiling wickedly. “I want you to find one for me.”
My breath caught.
“Online. This week. I want you to pick a man, any man, who lives there. Set it up. Talk to him. Tell him who I am. That I’m almost married. That my husband’s gifting him a night with his wife.”
She leaned in close, so close her breath hit my neck.
“I want it to be your fault when I come back ruined.”
My heart was racing. My cock leaking. She could feel it.
“Make it real,” she whispered. “Make me your dirty little project.”
Then she kissed me. Deep, slow, possessive.
“You’ve got two weeks, baby.”
She stood up. Walked away without looking back, hips swaying, perfect ass, thong soaked.
And I was left alone, aching… already searching.
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