Devon walked through the Velvet Lounge, his naked body moved smooth and strong, cutting through the crowd of writhing bodies. The air was filler with sex—moans, wet slaps of skin, and that deep bass thumping like a heartbeat in his chest.

Every step he took, heads turned. But it wasn't just any heads. The women locked eyes on him hard, like he was the only man in the room.

Their stares burned with pure want, pulling at him from all sides.

"Hey, big boy, come fuck me over here!" one shouted from a red couch. She had her legs spread wide, some guy between them licking her pussy like crazy. But her eyes? Glued to Devon's thick nine-inch cock swinging heavy between his legs.

She didn't even blink at the dude eating her out. Another woman, bent over a table nearby, was getting pounded from behind. her fat ass rippling with every hard thrust. She spotted Devon and bit her lip, moaning extra loud, her big tits bouncing wild.

The guy fucking her noticed right away. He smacked her ass hard—CRACK!—leaving a red handprint blooming on her cheek. "Eyes on me, you slut!" he growled, slamming in deeper, his balls slapping her wet.

She yelped in pain, but two seconds later, her gaze snapped right back to Devon. She traced every vein on his shaft with her hungry eyes, licking her lips slow. "Why ain't you moaning for my dick, bitch?" the guy barked, thrusting even harder, sweat dripping off him.

But she just whimpered, totally lost, staring at Devon like he was her next meal.

Devon met her eyes for a quick second. Her face was all flushed red, mouth hanging open in a silent beg, pussy juice running down her thighs. Hot as hell. But he turned away cool, keeping his focus.

He stepped deeper into the chaos, boots sticking a bit to the cum-slick floor. It was the same shit everywhere he went. Women paused mid-fuck, mid-suck, whispering dirty things and pointing right at him.

"Goddamn, I need that monster cock splitting me open," one hissed to her friend, who was fingering her own dripping slit while watching Devon walk by. Even in groups, they broke rhythm, tits stopping their bounce, mouths pulling off cocks, just to stare.

One chick in a four-way pile-up actually pushed the guy out of her pussy mid-thrust to yell, "Over here, stud! My holes are empty for you!" It was clear as day, every wet pussy in this place twitched hard for him.

Then one woman got real bold. She pushed through the crowd and blocked his path dead on. Damn, she was a knockout, a stunning brunette in her late 20s, married by the huge diamond ring sparkling on her finger.

But that ring? Didn't slow her down one bit.

She was built like a pornstar wet dream come to life. Olive skin glowing slick under the flashing red lights, full DD tits heaving up and down with every breath, nipples pierced with shiny gold hoops that screamed "tug me hard."

Her waist dipped in tight, then flared out to wide hips and a fat, juicy ass that jiggled just right—like it was made for spanking and gripping. Thighs thick and toned, the kind you wanna bury your face between. Her shaved pussy? Puffy lips already slick and swollen, clit poking out fat and begging, a thin trail of her arousal dripping slow down her inner thigh from whatever nasty fun she'd been having before.

Long black hair fell in waves over one shoulder, framing a face straight out of fantasy, plump cock-sucking lips painted bright red and glossy, high cheekbones flushed pink, and green eyes smoldering with raw, animal lust like she was ready to drop and beg right there.

She pressed her hand flat on his chest, nails raking light over his hard pecs, feeling his heartbeat.

Then she leaned in close, so close her massive tits squished soft against his skin, those pierced nipples dragging hot trails across him.

Her breath hit his neck, warm and sweet with champagne and sex. "I want that fat cock buried balls-deep in my married pussy,"

she whispered, voice low and husky, dripping with need. "Stretch my hole till I scream your name, stud. Make me squirt all over you while my hubby's tiny dick watches from the corner and cries."

Fuck, it'd be a straight-up lie if Devon said he wasn't tempted. His cock twitched hard, thickening up fast at the thought of grabbing that juicy ass, bending her over the nearest table, and pounding her tight, soaked cunt raw.

He could picture it clear, her pussy lips gripping him like a vice, milking every inch as he slammed in deep, her gold-hoop nipples bouncing, that wedding ring flashing while she begged for his cum. Her musky scent hit him like a drug, pure arousal mixed with expensive perfume, making his balls ache.

Every curve on her screamed "fuck me now." But Devon locked it down tight. He flashed her a rough, predatory smile, the kind that made her knees weak and her pussy clench.

"Not tonight, sweetheart," he murmured, voice like gravel. Then he brushed past her slow, his arm grazing one of those perfect tits on purpose, feeling her nipple harden even more.

She gasped sharp, hand reaching out like she might grab him, but he kept moving, leaving her standing there panting.

As he walked away, the chatter exploded behind him—loud, pissed-off women letting it all out. "Why the fuck isn't he banging any of us?!" one yelled, her voice cracking with frustration, still getting finger-banged by her group but barely paying attention. "Damn, look at that cock, it's a straight-up monster!" another chimed in, her friends giggling and groaning loud. "It'd rip my pussy apart, but shit, I'd die smiling!"

A third one laughed dirty, "His face and that cock? Gives him every damn reason to be arrogant as hell. I'd worship that thing!"

Then the sharpest voice cut through, from a curvy redhead pointing at some balding dude in the corner, "Look at my pathetic husband over there—tiny pink dick flopping useless! This is what a real man looks like. I'd trade his ass for one thrust from that beast!"

Devon tuned it all out, eyes locked forward. He headed straight for the roped-off VIP section at the back, red velvet curtains hanging heavy like a promise of worse sins.

A massive bouncer guarded it, bigger than the first one, arms thick as tree trunks, face scarred up from old fights. The guy stepped forward quick, huge hand up. "Invitation only, pal—" he started, voice like a truck engine.

But before he finished, a figure stepped out from the shadows, smooth as silk.

Devon clocked him right away: Julius Navarro. Sharp black suit hugging his frame, even in this naked fuck-fest. Salt-and-pepper hair slicked back perfect, dark eyes sharp and knowing, like he owned every secret in the room.

They'd met at the Bright and Bravest exhibition, just minutes after that system notification buzzed in Devon's head. Back then, he'd felt it in his gut, no way it was a coincidence this guy showed up right beside him.

Julius met Devon's stare, cool as ice. Then he just nodded at the bouncer. "He's one of us," Julius said flat, voice smooth like expensive whiskey.

The bouncer unhitched the velvet rope quick and stepped aside. Devon slipped through without a glance.

And the Vip section was ten times crazier than the main floor, like stepping into a rich pervert's wildest dream. Low golden lights pulsed soft, private leather booths ringed in gold trim, and a central stage where the pros put on paid shows that'd make porn stars blush.

The air hit thicker here, high-end lube, fresh cum, designer sweat, and pussy squirt all mixed in a cloud of elite filth.

Right off the bat, in the middle of the room, a circle of CEOs and trophy wives ran a full-on gangbang pile. One smoking-hot blonde bombshell was dead center, on all fours like a bitch in heat.

She had a thick, veiny cock rammed down her throat, gagging wet—gluck-gluck—spit and pre-cum bubbling out while another suit hammered her dripping pussy from behind, balls slapping her clit hard.

A third guy stretched her tight asshole wide, double penetration making her scream muffled around the dick in her mouth, cum from earlier loads leaking white and thick from both holes, dripping down her thighs in rivers.

They rotated fast, slapping her huge fake tits red, spanking her ass till it glowed. "Take it all, you corporate cum-dump!" one barked, fisting her hair and face-fucking her deeper.

She just moaned louder, pushing back for more, pussy queefing cum bubbles.

Nearby, in a dark booth, a leather-clad domme whipped a bound executive. His cock was locked in a steel cage, leaking pre-cum in steady drops, but she didn't care strapped on a massive black dildo and pegged his ass deep—thrust-thrust-thrust—prostate-milking him till he squirted hands-free, ropes of jizz shooting from his caged tip onto the floor.

The whip cracked sharp—CRACK!—across his back, leaving welts, his moans turning to whimpers: "Yes, Mistress!"

Over by the gold bar, a group of five trophy wives shared one hung black stud like a prize. One rode his face hard, grinding her shaved clit on his tongue while he slurped her asshole clean, smack-slurp—pussy farting juice into his mouth.

Another bounced reverse-cowgirl on his massive cock, her tight cunt stretching wide, cream foaming white at the base with every slam, tits flopping wild. The third fingered his ass deep, two knuckles in, while sucking his heavy balls sloppy. "Deeper, you fuck machine. breed us all!" they chanted, swapping spots in a sweaty frenzy, passing cum mouth-to-mouth like champagne, tongues swirling thick loads.

On the central stage, the live show went nuclear: two oiled-up models scissored hard on a glass table, puffy clits rubbing slick and fast—schlick-schlick-schlick, squirting long arcs of girl-cum into crystal glasses for the VIPs to sip like fine wine.

A ripped waiter joined in, slamming his cock into one from behind doggy-style, pounding her ass while she ate the other's pussy, the table shaking, pussy juice splashing everywhere.

In another corner, a rich couple hosted a bukkake party—ten masked men jerked off around the wife, exploding thick ropes of hot cum across her face, tits, and open mouth till she looked glazed like a donut, swallowing what she could and rubbing the rest into her skin.

"More loads, boys, paint your queen!" she laughed, fingering her cum-filled cunt.

The mirrors here doubled it all endless reflections of gaping holes overflowing with jizz, cocks erupting like fountains, asses prolapsing from monster toys, and women pissing squirt into each other's mouths. Toys littered the floor, vibrating eggs buzzing in piss puddles, 12-inch dildos slick with ass-to-mouth, cock rings pulsing on spent dicks.

This was VIP sex—wilder, dirtier, with secrets whispered between orgasms that could topple empires.

Devon found a plush leather couch in a quiet corner booth, sinking into it deep. The soft hide stuck to his skin, cool against his growing heat.

Julius slid in across from him smooth, grabbing a crystal decanter and pouring two glasses of top-shelf whiskey amber liquid glugging slowly.

Devon leaned forward, elbows on knees, eyes locking on Julius like lasers—cold, unblinking. "Was it you?" His voice came out deep and ice-cold, cutting through the moans and slaps like a knife.

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