Staring at My Bulge!

Marcus had tried to find Emma something "appropriate," but Emma had other plans. She chose a dress that was skin-tight, made of a thin, shimmering fabric that clung to every curve of her body. Most importantly, it had no underwear beneath it. The fabric stretched precariously over her groin, creating a massive, unmistakable tent. Her 16-inch cock was semi-hard, creating a heavy, thick bulge that swayed slightly with every step she took.

As they entered the ballroom, the atmosphere was thick with the smell of expensive perfume and old money. The room was filled with the elite—CEOs in tailored tuxedos, ministers with gold pins on their lapels, and socialites draped in diamonds.

The moment Emma stepped into the light, the conversation died. It started with a ripple of silence that spread across the room like a wave.

Emma didn't hide. She walked with her head high, her hips swinging, making sure the massive protrusion between her legs was the center of attention. She could feel the eyes of every man and woman in the room locking onto her crotch.

She met countless people. Some were "nobodies"—young assistants or hangers-on trying to climb the social ladder. Others were the heavy hitters—straight-up politicians and billionaires who thought they owned the world. But regardless of their status, the reaction was always the same.

They stared.

The men looked with a mixture of shock, confusion, and a hidden, desperate lust. They had spent their lives being the ones in power, but looking at the sheer size of the member stretching Emma's dress, they felt a sudden, instinctive urge to kneel. They whispered to each other, their eyes darting from her face down to the monstrous bulge, wondering if it was real, and then hoping that it was.

The women were just as captivated. Some looked on with judgment, but many more had a glazed look in their eyes, their breaths hitching as they imagined what it would feel like to have that massive shaft filling them up.

Emma loved it. She moved through the crowd like a predator, sipping champagne and laughing at the stunned expressions. She could feel her cock twitching and growing harder under the fabric, fueled by the collective desire of the room. She wasn't just a guest; she was the main attraction.

As the night went on, Emma felt a presence beside her. She turned to find a woman who looked the part of a perfect political spouse—elegant, poised, and wearing a dress that cost more than most people's cars. This was the wife of one of the most powerful politicians in the city.

The woman didn't look at Emma's eyes. Instead, her gaze was fixed firmly on the heavy, veiny bulge stretching the fabric of Emma's dress. She leaned in close, her voice a low, hungry whisper that only Emma could hear.

"My husband is a very important man," the woman murmured, her eyes shimmering with lust. "But I think I'm tired of 'important' men. I want something... substantial."

She shifted closer, her hip brushing against Emma's. "My husband has a private study in our house, just a few blocks from here. Why don't you come over? I want to see exactly what you're hiding under that dress, and I want you to use it on me."

Hi, Thanks for reading! Here are some more links you might enjoy!

Get my full book here:- https://mybook.to/amazon-thenewagewriter

Access 30+ Futanari Stories for $10:- https://reamstories.com/thenewagewriter