The women, each draped in their tight pencil dresses, were lost in their game, their inhibitions crumbling with every dare, every truth.
But it was Eleanor who captured my attention the most. Her silver dress shimmered under the chandelier's light, the fabric clinging to her still-firm curves, her black pubic hairs peeking through her white lace panties like a filthy secret.
The way she carried herself—confident, arrogant, unapologetic—was mesmerizing. She was a queen in a room full of queens, and yet, she stood apart.
I gulped, my throat dry, my cock throbbing painfully in my pants, hardening with every second that passed. The scent of their arousal was thick in the air, musky and sweet, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, my mind racing with filthy possibilities.
Claudia, her navy blue dress riding up as she shifted in her seat, her black lace panties peeking out, unconsciously reached out, her fingers brushing against Eleanor's exposed pussy.
