silverlaker

Standing in a lucite box may seem very boring to some, but to a muse, nothing could be more fascinating. I witnessed the Countess Von Sheister, sans the Count, snuggled up to her driver I heard that the Count was off in Monte Carlo with Veronica, his power-call girl. Of course, lucite is not the most conductive of sound catalystsoh what am I talking about? Of course there was a bunch of sleazing and sliding going on! This was a Serge party! Anyhow, I was oblivious to the obvious once Gabriel glided in. I was so overjoyed that he came. Who invited him? I hardly cared.

I was gyrating to the disco beat, slow-trance moving. Sometimes stopping. Striking a pose. It was in one such pose, when my beautiful saviour appeared. Wearing a black turtleneck of a fine weave and golden corduroy slacks, he was the picture of class. He sailed past the other guests, almost through them, really. Such panache, such a body! He stood at a respectable distance and gazed up at me in my lucite box. I toyed with the strings on my bikini top. I looked coyly at him looking at me and then I tugged. The two black triangles fell to the floor of my cube. I spun around and pressed my nipples to the transparent wall. I swayed to the rhythm. Gabriel never stopped admiring me, never took his eyes off me. I twirled the ties on the side of my bottoms. I tugged. Gabriel smiled. His eyes penetrated my soul. My pussy was so wet. I heard Serge applauding, calling out my name. It was faint compared to the pounding inside my box.


I closed my eyes. I felt Gabriel inside of me. Serge said the party was a smash success.

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