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Bmkkp
Meteorite
- Joined
- Jan 2, 2025
"angh...!!!! angh !!!..." *clap clap clap clap ....
The rhythmic sound of flesh meeting flesh echoes through the opulent halls of Isabeau De LaTour's Parisian mansion. Her moans, unrestrained, shatter the icy composure she's so well-known for among the Parisian underworld. Laying on the windowsill, her legs tremble, her heeled feet high in the air as her enhanced breasts spill from her lace bra, bouncing with every thrust. The once-perfect coils of her brunette hair now hang wild and disheveled around her flushed face. Between gasps, she tries to muster resistance. ".angh !!! ...you [Your character ?] ...you...have..it...you'll be now..in charge...angh...!!!" But the words falter into cries ...
That evening, Isabeau wore only the essentials: gleaming black Louboutin heels, stockings held up by a garter belt, and a matching lace bra. Beneath her long beige fur coat, she hadn't even bothered with panties. Just months earlier, Isabeau could never have imagined herself in this position. A mere newcomer to the city, [YC] had risen through a series of cunning maneuvers, dismantling her own clan from the inside and seizing control of the Parisian mob family that her husband once led - her husband, cast aside and already forgotten, didn't matter anymore. And she, the untouchable femme fatale, proud and imperious, now found herself hoisted into the air, legs over [YC]'s shoulder, reduced to a mess on his cock.
Her fur coat slipped from her shoulders, pooling onto the ground as [YC] lifted her effortlessly.
"… Oghh !!! …I… I'm… going to cum again…!" she cried, her voice breaking into a high-pitched gasp. "Fuck, it's so good!" she screamed again, her body convulsing as she reached a second orgasm.
Outside, hidden in the shadows of the sprawling estate, a lone figure clings to the wrought-iron gates. With a steady hand, he records the intimate encounter through the mansion's grand windows. The camera catches on every detail—the man's firm grip on Isabeau's ankles, her flushed expression of mixed defiance and ecstasy. Once satisfied, the figure sends the recording to a contact labeled "Diletta" before disappearing into the night.
Miles away, in a secluded villa on the outskirts of Milan
Diletta Leotta lounges naked on a massage table. Her body glistens under the soft light as four attendants work meticulously on her oiled body—one massaging her back, another perfecting her manicure, a third shaping her pedicure, and the fourth monitoring her phone.
A notification pings. The fourth attendant, with Diletta's permission, opens the message and plays the video. The screen reveals the compromising footage of Isabeau. Diletta sits up slowly, her blonde hair wrapped in a towel, her sharp eyes locked on the screen. A sly smile curls on her full lips. "Interesting," she murmurs.
Later that night
On the rooftop of a towering skyscraper, Diletta Leotta stood, her commanding figure illuminated by the city lights below. The blonde Italian, exuded effortless power as the wind teased the edges of her tailored white coat. Behind her, the rhythmic hum of helicopter blades filled the air. From the shadows, a man [your character rival] stepped forward.
Without turning, Diletta spoke, her voice melodic and sharp. "It seems the upheaval in France is rekindling the power struggle between the Parisian families. A war is brewing… and it's the perfect moment for us to seize control."
The man nodded, his eyes never leaving her. "I will conquer Paris for you, mia padrona," he vowed.
Diletta turned her head slightly, a smirk playing at her full lips. "You'd better," she replied, her voice honeyed with both promise and warning. Her piercing gaze swept across the cityscape as she continued,
"I want Paris in my grasp. We already control the most powerful families in Milan and Sicily. Soon, I will be the mistress of all Europe."
The man's breath hitched as he struggled to conceal his cock at her presence.
"See this mission through," she said, "and when next we meet, you'll finally have ME… and we'll FUCK in the most magnificent palace in Paris."
With a subtle gesture, she dismissed him. The man bowed slightly, then turned to board the helicopter. Diletta watched as it ascended into the night, a smile curling her lips.
--------------------
non english native here - doing my best !
Looking forward to connecting!
The rhythmic sound of flesh meeting flesh echoes through the opulent halls of Isabeau De LaTour's Parisian mansion. Her moans, unrestrained, shatter the icy composure she's so well-known for among the Parisian underworld. Laying on the windowsill, her legs tremble, her heeled feet high in the air as her enhanced breasts spill from her lace bra, bouncing with every thrust. The once-perfect coils of her brunette hair now hang wild and disheveled around her flushed face. Between gasps, she tries to muster resistance. ".angh !!! ...you [Your character ?] ...you...have..it...you'll be now..in charge...angh...!!!" But the words falter into cries ...
That evening, Isabeau wore only the essentials: gleaming black Louboutin heels, stockings held up by a garter belt, and a matching lace bra. Beneath her long beige fur coat, she hadn't even bothered with panties. Just months earlier, Isabeau could never have imagined herself in this position. A mere newcomer to the city, [YC] had risen through a series of cunning maneuvers, dismantling her own clan from the inside and seizing control of the Parisian mob family that her husband once led - her husband, cast aside and already forgotten, didn't matter anymore. And she, the untouchable femme fatale, proud and imperious, now found herself hoisted into the air, legs over [YC]'s shoulder, reduced to a mess on his cock.
Her fur coat slipped from her shoulders, pooling onto the ground as [YC] lifted her effortlessly.
"… Oghh !!! …I… I'm… going to cum again…!" she cried, her voice breaking into a high-pitched gasp. "Fuck, it's so good!" she screamed again, her body convulsing as she reached a second orgasm.
Outside, hidden in the shadows of the sprawling estate, a lone figure clings to the wrought-iron gates. With a steady hand, he records the intimate encounter through the mansion's grand windows. The camera catches on every detail—the man's firm grip on Isabeau's ankles, her flushed expression of mixed defiance and ecstasy. Once satisfied, the figure sends the recording to a contact labeled "Diletta" before disappearing into the night.
Miles away, in a secluded villa on the outskirts of Milan
Diletta Leotta lounges naked on a massage table. Her body glistens under the soft light as four attendants work meticulously on her oiled body—one massaging her back, another perfecting her manicure, a third shaping her pedicure, and the fourth monitoring her phone.
A notification pings. The fourth attendant, with Diletta's permission, opens the message and plays the video. The screen reveals the compromising footage of Isabeau. Diletta sits up slowly, her blonde hair wrapped in a towel, her sharp eyes locked on the screen. A sly smile curls on her full lips. "Interesting," she murmurs.
Later that night
On the rooftop of a towering skyscraper, Diletta Leotta stood, her commanding figure illuminated by the city lights below. The blonde Italian, exuded effortless power as the wind teased the edges of her tailored white coat. Behind her, the rhythmic hum of helicopter blades filled the air. From the shadows, a man [your character rival] stepped forward.
Without turning, Diletta spoke, her voice melodic and sharp. "It seems the upheaval in France is rekindling the power struggle between the Parisian families. A war is brewing… and it's the perfect moment for us to seize control."
The man nodded, his eyes never leaving her. "I will conquer Paris for you, mia padrona," he vowed.
Diletta turned her head slightly, a smirk playing at her full lips. "You'd better," she replied, her voice honeyed with both promise and warning. Her piercing gaze swept across the cityscape as she continued,
"I want Paris in my grasp. We already control the most powerful families in Milan and Sicily. Soon, I will be the mistress of all Europe."
The man's breath hitched as he struggled to conceal his cock at her presence.
"See this mission through," she said, "and when next we meet, you'll finally have ME… and we'll FUCK in the most magnificent palace in Paris."
With a subtle gesture, she dismissed him. The man bowed slightly, then turned to board the helicopter. Diletta watched as it ascended into the night, a smile curling her lips.
--------------------
non english native here - doing my best !
Looking forward to connecting!
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