Chapter 7: Miss Albania Paula and the Cash

Over the next few months, as Susan’s belly swelled with our twins, my appetite for seducing trophy wives grew insatiable. Visiting upscale tourist venues became my hunting ground. I’d linger near the ladies’ rooms, scanning for my next conquest. It was a game, a ritual. Most of these women were in their twenties, draped in expensive clothes but radiating neglect and unfulfilled lust, nothing more than playthings for their wealthy husbands upstairs. I’d approach them as they freshened up, their inhibitions no match for the irresistible power of my horny drug, tx34. Before long, my cock was buried in their tight, neglected pussies, spurting hot streams of sperm deep inside them, seeding them with my offspring.

By the time I hit thirty-one, my trophy collection of panties and thongs had become a private museum of my conquests, their silk and lace drenched in memories. My library of photos and videos had grown too, every thrust, moan, and gasp immortalized in crystal-clear detail. These weren’t just mementos; they were my personal porn collection, fueling the fantasies I relived on those rare nights when I found myself alone. Yes, even I had lonely nights, though they were growing fewer and further between.

Then came girl number thirty-two, the one who broke the routine.

We had fucked the night before, a sweaty, breathless session in the bathroom of the Hilton Bar. It wasn’t just any fuck, it was exceptional. Her body had been pure perfection: firm, smooth breasts with large, erect nipples that begged to be sucked; a tight, velvety pussy that clamped down on my cock like it never wanted to let go; and a swollen, sensitive clit that had made her shudder with every touch. The memory of her model-perfect face twisted in pleasure, her lips forming that beautiful “O” as she cried out, was burned into my brain. My dick twitched just thinking about it.

The next day, as I strolled downtown on an extended lunch break, I saw her again. She stepped out of an expensive designer store, her heels clicking confidently on the pavement. Our eyes locked, and for a few long seconds, neither of us moved. The electricity of recognition passed between us, the memory of the night before playing out wordlessly in our minds. Her face flushed slightly, and her neck showed telltale pink patches of arousal. She remembered too.

After those charged seconds, I gestured toward a nearby café, one that looked quiet and tucked away. She hesitated, then followed, her hips swaying in a way that sent a pulse of heat straight to my cock. The café was nearly empty, the perfect spot for a conversation, or something more. We slid into a corner table, secluded enough that no one could overhear. Drinks were ordered, but I already knew where this was headed. The tension between us was palpable, her body language betraying the arousal still simmering beneath her cool exterior.

“I don’t know what came over me last night. I’ve never cheated on my husband before,” she said, her voice trembling with a mix of guilt and something far more enticing. Then, almost as if she couldn’t help herself, she added with a sly grin, “But damn, I had no idea sex could feel that good!”

I leaned back, smirking. “Well, you sure seemed to enjoy yourself,” I replied, casually placing my phone on the table and pulling up a series of photos. Her face, flushed and twisted in pure, unfiltered lust, stared back from the screen.

Her eyes widened in shock. “Oh my God!” she gasped, her voice frantic. “You have to delete those. My husband would kill me if he ever saw them. Please, I’m begging you!”

I tilted my head, giving her a knowing smile, and slid the phone back into my pocket.

She leaned forward, lowering her voice as panic flashed in her eyes. “Listen, my husband is filthy rich. I grew up in a slum - I can’t go back to that. Please!” Her words came faster now, her desperation mounting. After a pause, she glanced around, ensuring no one was watching. “Okay, you’re a student, right? What if I give you £10,000 for the pictures? Would that be enough?”

Her offer caught me off guard. I’d only taken the photos for my own amusement, not with any plan to extort her, but the thought of walking away with that much cash had my interest. I didn’t answer right away, and her nervousness grew. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat before blurting out, “Fine, I’ll give you £30,000. That’s all I have with me right now. Take it and delete everything, please!”

£30,000? My cock twitched at the sheer absurdity of someone carrying that much cash in their purse. These trophy wives lived in a completely different reality, but who was I to question it? I kept my face neutral, my silence urging her to prove she was serious.

After checking the room again, she reached into her designer bag, unzipping a hidden compartment. From within, she pulled out a thick white envelope, the edges stuffed with neatly stacked bills. She placed it on the table, her eyes pleading.

I unlocked my phone, scrolling to the photos and videos of her sprawled beneath me, her body glistening with sweat, my cock disappearing into her perfect cunt in every frame. With exaggerated care, I highlighted them, hit delete, and even went into the trash folder to empty it. She leaned over to watch, her relief evident as I performed the charade.

The moment she saw everything vanish, she pushed the envelope toward me. I slid it into my coat pocket without hesitation, the weight of it solid and satisfying.

“That was too easy,” I thought, suppressing a grin. It was obvious she had no idea about cloud backups, and she certainly didn’t know that every picture and video had already synced to my computer. The originals were safe and sound, ready for me to enjoy again later. And now, I had more money in my pocket than I’d ever held in my life.

“I’m Tom, I’m here for my PhD, in artificial intelligence,” I lied, flashing a confident smile.

“Nice to meet you, Tom! I’m Paula, twenty-one years old, and I was Miss Albania two years ago,” she replied, her proud smile lighting up her stunning face, her accent adding an exotic, irresistible edge to her words.

Her beauty was almost surreal, the kind that stopped conversations and turned heads. Miss Albania... that explained everything. I smirked, already imagining what it would be like to fuck her again, to see that perfect face twisted in pleasure.

“My husband is the CEO of one of the largest Albanian trading companies,” she added, her voice dripping with pride.

“Trading? More like mafia,” I thought, the hint of danger making her even more alluring. She wasn’t just sexy - she was a fantasy brought to life.

As we talked, I quickly realized she was more than just a gorgeous face. Naive and sweet, with an almost old-fashioned charm, she carried herself with a mix of purity and sensuality that was downright intoxicating. Her traditional upbringing in a remote, poor village was evident, making her even more tempting. There was a raw, untapped energy beneath her polished exterior, and I wanted it all.

The longer she held my gaze with those big, innocent eyes, the more my cock stirred to life. My shaft throbbed against my jeans, the memory of her wet, tight cunt gripping me so vividly fresh that it made my pulse race. I could still hear the soft, breathless gasps she made as I stretched her open, could still feel the way her body had surrendered completely under me.

The need to claim her again, to bury myself in her slick, delicious pussy, was overpowering. My restraint was unraveling with every second she sat there, oblivious to the effect she was having. Knocking up a former Miss Albania, wife to a big mafia guy, was an irresistible thrill.

“Let me show you my college,” I suggested, my voice casual, but inside I was already burning with anticipation.

I lived in one of those ancient colleges steeped in history, its grandeur hiding secrets that had unfolded over centuries. I paid the bill, then reached for her hand. She let me take it at first but quickly withdrew, her eyes darting nervously around the room.

“Please, my husband is very jealous. Please respect my dignity,” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and arousal.

“Of course, my dear Paula,” I lied smoothly, a smile playing on my lips. “Come with me.”

Her hesitation was brief. The flicker of curiosity, and perhaps desire, in her eyes told me all I needed to know.

We walked the short distance to my dorm, her heels clicking softly against the cobblestone path as she nervously glanced around. I punched in the PIN at a discreet back entrance, bypassing the main lobby to avoid the watchful eyes of the front desk. Her hesitation was palpable as I led her down the dimly lit hallway, pointing out old statues and historic plaques along the way, though I barely registered them myself. My mind was consumed by anticipation, by the thought of her tight, perfect body beneath me once more, the memory of her wet, trembling pussy fueling my growing desire.

When we reached my room, I unlocked the door and gestured for her to step inside. She hesitated, glancing back at me with wide, uncertain eyes, but I gave her a reassuring smile. With one last pause, she entered, and before she could think twice, I slipped in behind her, shutting the door with a soft but deliberate click.

“What are we doing here?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly, her body stiff as she turned to face me.

“I thought we could have some wild sex again,” I replied bluntly, my tone unapologetic, my eyes raking over her nervous form. Her cheeks flushed, her discomfort evident as she looked around the small room, clearly unsure whether to bolt for the door or play along.

She wrung her hands, her propriety battling against the situation she’d found herself in. “This is ... I don’t think this is a good idea,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, a note of fear creeping in.

I stepped closer, my movements slow and deliberate, my gaze locking onto hers. “Relax,” I said smoothly, my voice low and calm. “Sit down, I have something to show you.”

She froze, her instincts visibly at war with her confusion. I gestured to the chair, my voice calm and inviting, but my intentions anything but innocent. My pulse thundered in my chest as I watched her deliberation, already picturing how her resistance would crumble. I could almost feel her tight little cunt gripping me again, wetter and hotter than before, her body yielding despite her protests. She just needed a little push, and I was more than ready to give it.

After a long pause, she hesitated, then lowered herself into the chair, her hands gripping the armrests nervously. Perfect. I moved toward her casually, placing my right hand firmly on her shoulder. My left hand, already slick with tx34 cream, hovered just out of her view. With a quick motion, I applied the cream to her opposite shoulder, distracting her with the firm circles of my right hand.

The effect of the drug was immediate and utterly intoxicating to witness. A faint rash bloomed on her neck, her cheeks flushed, and a shiver ran through her, subtle at first, then more pronounced as the tx34 hijacked her senses. Her eyelids fluttered, and her lips parted with a soft gasp as the drug awakened something primal within her. The change was visceral, unmistakable—the instinct to be bred, to cheat, to surrender overwhelmed her, driving her arousal to an almost obscene level. Her body radiated need, her subconscious screaming to be taken, to be filled.

I widened my circles, inching closer to her magnificent tits that heaved with each shallow breath. Her head lolled slightly as I reached down, lifting her arm and pulling her blouse over her head in one fluid motion. The sight of her expensive lace bra, barely containing the fullness of her perfect, firm breasts, was enough to make my cock throb.

Her body was flawless, a masterpiece of soft curves and smooth, unblemished skin, every inch practically begging to be worshiped. The deep, inviting cleavage framed by the delicate lace of her bra, her elegant shoulders, and that breathtaking, model-perfect face—flushed and radiant with drug-enhanced lust—made her utterly irresistible. Her once hesitant and reserved expression had dissolved into unfiltered desire, her eyes now glazed with need. Any resistance had crumbled, replaced by a raw, primal hunger. She was ready—her body was mine for the taking, every inch of her begging to be claimed.

Her trance-like state only made her more tantalizing, her body slack yet reactive, as though every nerve was tuned to me. Slowly, deliberately, I reached behind her and unhooked her bra, sliding it off to reveal her perfect tits. They stood proud and firm, defying gravity, full D-cups that were almost too big for her slender frame. Her dark, stiff nipples jutted forward, begging for attention, her massive jugs looking so perfectly round they seemed to defy nature. The sight of her bare chest alone made my cock ache, a rush of heat surging through me as I drank in every detail of her body. Her massive jugs looked so big they threatened to tip her over.

I didn’t hesitate. Leaning in, I latched onto one of her hard, dark nipples, sucking it deeply into my mouth while my hands kneaded her other tit, relishing the weight and firmness of her flesh. She let out a low, shaky moan, her head tilting back slightly, her hands gripping the armrests tightly as if grounding herself against the overwhelming sensations. Her eyes remained closed, her lips parted as she surrendered to the pleasure coursing through her body, entirely at my mercy.

As I continued, my thoughts briefly drifted to Susan, though any trace of guilt was long gone. Cheating had become second nature, almost routine, thanks to her nonexistent sex drive. She’d told me more than once, in moments of rare candor, that I could stray as long as she never found out. Those words had been all the permission I needed to open a door I never planned to close, making me addicted to the thrill of conquest. Paula wasn’t just another woman; she was a trophy and the ultimate reminder that nothing was off-limits.

Paula’s tight, trembling body beneath me was everything Susan could never offer, her youthful curves, her untouched innocence, and the raw, uninhibited heat she radiated was the kind of thrill I lived for. Nothing compared to the wild electricity of fucking a new woman, especially a jaw-dropping, otherworldly beauty like Paula. The idea of filling her, of pumping my cum deep inside her fertile little cunt and impregnating her, made my cock throb harder. This wasn’t just about sex. It was about indulgence, power, and the primal satisfaction of taking someone else’s wife, cuckolding him. There was no way I was letting this go to waste.

I latched onto her hard, dark nipple, sucking greedily while my hands kneaded her other tit, reveling in the firm, flawless perfection of her massive melons. She moaned softly, her eyes closed, her hands gripping the armrests as if grounding herself. She seemed oblivious to the fact that my computer and tablet, discreetly placed in opposite corners of the room, were already recording. My phone joined in, capturing close-up shots of her tits and my mouth sucking on her stiff, swollen nipple.

Setting the phone down, I slid my free hand down between her legs, pressing firmly against her pussy through her skirt. Her gasp was immediate, a sharp intake of breath followed by those soft, irresistible moans. I tugged at her skirt, and she instinctively lifted her hips, giving me all the permission I needed to strip her bare. I slid off her skirt and lace panties in one smooth motion, taking her shoes with them. She never opened her eyes, but the way she moved made it clear she wasn’t resisting.

Her pussy was bare and flawless, the smoothness telling me she’d waxed it recently. She looked fresh, untouched, innocent. Everything about her screamed perfection. I dropped to my knees, positioning my head between her legs, letting my breath tickle her swollen folds. Her scent was intoxicating, clean and subtly sweet, evidence of the care she took with her body.

I lowered my lips to her clit, teasing it with the tip of my tongue, earning little gasps and cries of pleasure. Her hips twitched as I flicked and swirled my tongue, and I slid a hand down to slip a finger inside her. Her tight, wet cunt gripped me immediately, already lubricated and pulsing with anticipation.

I worked her with my finger while my tongue stayed on her clit, her moans growing louder and more desperate. When she started moving her hips to meet my rhythm, I added another finger, pumping harder as I pinched and rolled her nipples with my free hand. She was trembling now, her breath catching in shallow gasps as her body climbed higher.

Her muscles tensed, her back arched, and she froze, completely stiff, waiting for release. I didn’t stop, driving my fingers deeper, my tongue flicking furiously over her clit. Grabbing my phone again, I recorded the slick sounds of my fingers plunging into her pussy and the way her hips bucked against my mouth.

With a sudden, uncontrollable shudder, she exploded, her body jerking violently as waves of pleasure overtook her. Her high-pitched scream echoed through the dorm, punctuated by cries of, “Yes, yes, yes! Don’t stop ... Oh my God, this is SOOOOO good! YEEEEEESSSS!”