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Our hands explored each other’s bodies. I adored Adam’s slim frame, his abs felt so flat and tight under his shirt, I couldn’t wait to see what was underneath. Just as I was getting carried away he broke the kiss, pushing me back gently. ‘We have to stop.’ He breathed, clearly enjoying himself; I knew he didn’t mean it. ‘Don’t pretend you’ve found your morals,’ I replied cheekily, ‘We’ve gone too far for that already.’ ‘It’s not that... I won’t tell if you don’t.’ Thoughts of my girlfriend entered my head and left again immediately, I wasn’t about to deny myself this opportunity. Any guilt can be dealt with by future me. ‘It’s just...’ Adam continued, pointing towards his crotch, ‘I’m getting way too excited.’ I had been far too occupied with our kiss and his perfect torso to even consider his penis yet. His cock, however, had been busy too - busy getting rock hard! I had never seen such a bulge. There was a thick cylindrical shape in his knee length jean shorts that ran from his fly. I went up to Room 319 at the appointed time, and joined the other three men in suits, and took a glass of the offered champagne. Catherine came out from the bedroom alcove, dressed in an outfit that screamed lust, celebration, and unfettered womanhood. She wore six inch blood red high heels, the black tight bodice, pushing up her creamy white breasts. The black silk stockings and suspender belt drawing men’s eyes to that white soft band of exposed thigh. The tiny, tight g-string, bulged with the softness of her shaved cunt. It was the usual, but it was an offering worthy of all the gods on earth. We looked in total disbelief, and each man would have traded his soul, and sold his family into slavery for the pleasure that her costume promised. Catherine began a slow dance with The Arranger. Within a few minutes she slipped her hands down to his belt, unzipped and gently freed up his erect cock. They danced slowly together, his hands gently holding her shoulders, her hands, her elegant.
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