The coat slid off her shoulders and pooled at her feet.
Black lace bra, sheer black stockings, and the tiniest black crotchless panties framed her body perfectly. Through the deliberate gap, her swollen pink lips glistened, already puffy and dripping. A single bead of arousal traced down the inside of her thigh, catching the low light like liquid crystal.
I stripped fast, clothes hitting the carpet in a careless heap, cock jutting hard and heavy between us. We stood inches apart, the room thick with the scent of her wetness and the faint floral heat of her perfume.
I lifted one finger. She leaned in instantly, wrapping her lips around it, sucking slow and deep like it was candy, tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing. Warm, wet suction, soft hums vibrating up my hand. Minutes blurred until she pulled off with a wet pop, leaving my finger shining with thick strands of her saliva.
I brought it to my own mouth, tasting her (sweet, faintly salty, unmistakably her).
"Sweet as ever," I murmured.
A visible shudder ran through her; her thighs clenched and another fresh trickle slipped free. She crawled onto the king bed, back sinking into the cool black sheets, legs falling open in invitation.
I knelt between them, voice low. "I want to lick every single fold of that pretty pussy."
She nodded, breath already ragged, and spread wider, the soaked lips parting with a soft, wet sound that echoed in the hushed suite
I crawled between her trembling thighs, the scent of her arousal thick and heady, sweet like overripe peaches.
My tongue traced her swollen pink lips first (slow, flat licks from bottom to top), savoring the slick heat, the way her folds fluttered under every stroke. Then I pushed inside, tongue-fucking her deep, curling and thrusting while she bucked and moaned like a bitch in heat: "Mmm… mmm… yes, yes, just like that!"
Her eyes rolled back, tongue lolling, drool slipping from the corner of her open mouth in shiny threads.
Minutes later she shattered, thighs clamping around my head, a hot gush of her release flooding my mouth and splashing across my face. She sat up immediately, frantic, licking every drop off my cheeks, chin, and lips with desperate, grateful swipes of her tongue.
I rose to my knees. "Open your mouth."
She obeyed instantly, lips parted wide, eyes glassy. I aimed my cock and let go (a strong, golden stream hitting the back of her throat). She swallowed in greedy gulps, throat working, not spilling a single drop, humming like it was the sweetest thing she'd ever tasted.
"Doggy," I ordered.
She flipped over eagerly, knees spreading, back arching, presenting that dripping pink cunt framed by soaked black lace. I rubbed the head through her slick folds once, twice, then slammed in with one brutal thrust. She screamed into the mattress, ecstasy and shock mixed, drool pooling beneath her cheek.
I stayed buried, letting her feel every throbbing inch.
"Please… please, hubby, fuck my slut pussy," she begged, voice cracking.
I started slow, dragging out, slamming back in, then built to a steady, punishing rhythm. Wet slaps echoed off the hotel walls, her ass rippling with every impact, stockings torn at the thighs from her own frantic clawing at the sheets. Thirty relentless minutes of raw, skin-reddening strokes until we broke together: her pussy spasming wildly, milking me as I pumped thick ropes deep inside her. She buried her face in the pillow, muffled screams turning to whimpers, body shaking through wave after wave.
When I finally pulled out, a river of our mixed release poured from her gaping, twitching hole. She collapsed, passed out cold, lips parted, drool and tears streaking the sheets, black lingerie askew and ruined.
I dressed quietly, cock still glistening, and laid the keycard on the nightstand beside her limp hand.
Without a word I walked out, the door clicking shut behind me, leaving her used, filled, and dreaming in the wrecked bed.
I slipped out of the hotel, the afternoon sun still high, air thick with summer heat.
I drove to the old downtown cinema, bought a ticket for whatever was playing next, and claimed the very last row (corner seat, half-empty theater, perfect darkness).
Popcorn bucket warm in my lap, credits barely rolling, when she slid into the seat beside me.
A stunning MILF in a tight sundress, heavy breasts straining the fabric, perfume sweet and expensive. She leaned close enough that her soft thigh pressed against mine and whispered, "Having fun, little brother?"
I nodded.
She glanced around (nobody within five rows), then smiled slow and wicked. "Mind showing me what you're working with?"
I unzipped without a word. My cock sprang out thick and already hard. Her eyes widened, a soft "fuck" escaping her lips as she licked them in open hunger.
"You see," she breathed, voice low, "arranged marriage… sweet guy, but tiny cock, lasts thirty seconds if I'm lucky."
She shifted, reached under her dress, and peeled off black lace panties already soaked through. The wet fabric landed with a quiet slap on the empty seat beside her.
Next second she was straddling me, dress bunched at her waist, no hesitation. One hand guided my cock straight into her scalding, dripping heat. A muffled gasp vibrated through her chest as she sank down to the root, walls fluttering wildly around me.
She didn't kiss me. Just wrapped her arms around my neck in a tight, needy hug and started riding (slow rolls at first, then sharp bounces that made the seat creak). The theater filled with soft, wet squelches, the slap of her ass against my thighs, her breathy moans muffled against my shoulder. Every deep thrust nudged her cervix; I felt her whole body shudder each time I bottomed out.
Popcorn spilled forgotten across the floor. The movie's soundtrack drowned out the obscene symphony we were making. A few intense minutes later her nails dug into my back, pussy clamping down in hard, rhythmic pulses. I let go, pumping thick ropes deep inside her as she bit my shoulder to keep from screaming.
She stayed impaled a moment longer, trembling, then rose slowly. A warm flood of our mixed release trickled down my shaft and soaked my jeans. She pressed the drenched panties into my hand, slipped a folded note with her number into my shirt pocket, and whispered, "Call me anytime, little brother," before disappearing down the dark aisle, hips swaying, satisfied glow on her face.
I zipped up, settled back with what was left of my popcorn, and watched the rest of the movie, the lingering scent of sex and her perfume wrapped around me like a secret.