The city was called San Rosario, a hot, dirty place where the air always smelled of diesel and fried fish. Tall buildings stood half-finished, covered in dust, while poor people lived in small tin houses below. Police officers like Aldric Luis wore clean uniforms but did most of their work inside bars and hotel rooms. Everyone knew Aldric would do anything if the money was good. He took bribes from drug sellers, looked away when rich men beat their wives, and slept with the wives of his own bosses just to feel powerful and to get extra cash slipped into his pocket.
On this afternoon the sky was heavy and orange. Aldric drove his black motorcycle through the crowded streets, helmet under his arm, shirt open two buttons so the gold chain on his chest caught the sun. He was twenty-eight, tall, with wide shoulders and a small scar on his left cheek that women liked to touch. His eyes were dark and always moving, looking for the next chance.
He stopped in front of a white hotel called Paradise Grand. The guard at the gate knew him and opened without a word. Aldric parked, took the small gift bag from the back of his bike, and walked through the cool lobby that smelled of jasmine air freshener. He pressed the elevator button for the fifteenth floor.
Room 1508.
The door opened before he could knock.
Mrs. Irene Vargas stood there in a thin red silk robe that stopped high on her thighs. She was thirty-five, married to Deputy Commissioner Ramon Vargas, a fat man who spent more time drinking whisky in the capital than at home. Irene had long black hair that reached her waist, skin the color of fresh milk, and green eyes that looked hungry. She smiled like a cat who already caught the bird.
"You're late, officer," she said, voice low and playful.
"I like to make beautiful women wait. It makes them wetter," Aldric answered, stepping inside and closing the door with his foot.
The room was big and cool. Thick curtains kept out the afternoon sun. Only two lamps gave soft yellow light. A king-size bed with white sheets waited in the center. On the table stood an open bottle of red wine and two glasses already poured.
Irene walked to him slowly, letting the robe slip open just enough to show she wore nothing underneath. Her breasts were full and heavy, nipples already hard. Aldric put the gift bag on the table, pulled out a roll of thousand-peso bills, and set it down like it was nothing.
"Your husband signed my promotion papers this morning," he said, smiling. "This is my way of saying thank you."
Irene laughed softly, took the money, and tucked it into her small purse without counting. Then she stepped very close, so close he could smell her perfume and the warm scent of her skin.
"I don't want your money right now, Aldric," she said. She put her hands on his chest and started unbuttoning his shirt slowly. "I want something else."
Aldric grabbed her waist hard, pulled her against him, and kissed her roughly. Their mouths opened immediately, tongues sliding together, wet and hot. Irene made a soft moaning sound into his mouth. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. He tasted wine on her tongue.
He pushed the robe off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Her body was perfect—round breasts, small waist, wide hips, a small patch of dark hair between her legs. Aldric stepped back one second just to look at her, then picked her up easily. She wrapped her legs around his waist, arms around his neck, and kissed him again while he carried her to the bed.
He threw her down on the white sheets. She laughed, hair spreading like black fire on the pillow. Aldric took off his shirt, kicked off his shoes, and removed his belt slowly while watching her. Irene lay on her back, knees up and open, touching herself lightly with two fingers, eyes never leaving him.
"Come here," she said, voice thick.
Aldric dropped his pants. His cock was already hard, thick, and long, standing straight out. Irene bit her lower lip when she saw it.
He climbed onto the bed, grabbed her ankles, and pulled her legs wider. Then he went down between them without warning, mouth straight on her pussy. Irene gasped loudly, back arching off the bed. Aldric licked her slowly at first, long flat strokes from bottom to top, tasting how wet she already was. Her hands grabbed his hair, pulling him closer.
"Yes… like that… don't stop…"
He slid two fingers inside her while his tongue worked on her clit, moving them in and out fast. Irene's hips started moving on their own, riding his face. Her breathing became fast and loud. The room filled with wet sounds and her moans.
After some minutes her legs started shaking. She pulled his hair hard.
"I'm going to come… oh God…"
Aldric sucked her clit harder and curled his fingers inside. Irene cried out, body stiff, pussy squeezing his fingers again and again as she came. Clear juice ran down his hand.
He didn't give her time to rest. He moved up, put his cock at her entrance, and pushed in with one strong thrust. Irene was still coming; her pussy felt extra tight and hot. She wrapped her legs high around his back and pulled him deeper.
"Fuck me hard," she whispered against his ear. "I want to feel you tomorrow when my husband tries to touch me."
Aldric started moving, deep and fast. The bed shook. Irene's breasts jumped with every thrust. He grabbed one breast hard, pinched the nipple, and she moaned louder. Their bodies made loud slapping sounds. Sweat started shining on their skin.
He turned her over suddenly, pulled her hips up so she was on her knees, face down on the pillow. Then he entered her again from behind. Irene screamed into the pillow, loving it. Aldric held her waist with both hands and fucked her like an animal, fast, deep, without mercy. Her ass cheeks turned red from the impacts.
"Yes… yes… harder…"
He slapped her ass hard, leaving a pink hand print. She pushed back against him, meeting every thrust. Aldric reached forward, grabbed her long hair, and pulled her head back while still pounding her. Irene's mouth stayed open, eyes half closed, lost in pleasure.
Minutes passed like that—only the sound of bodies hitting, heavy breathing, and dirty words.
"Tell me who fucks you better than your husband," Aldric growled.
"You… only you… he's nothing compared to you…"
Aldric pulled out, turned her on her back again, and pushed her legs up until her knees touched her shoulders. Then he entered her once more, deeper than before. Irene's eyes went wide; she couldn't speak, only made small high sounds each time he went all the way in.
He leaned down and bit her neck, then her breasts, leaving small marks. Irene scratched his back hard enough to draw thin lines of blood. Their bodies were slippery with sweat now.
"I want you to come inside me," she said suddenly, voice shaking. "Fill me up."
Aldric grinned and moved faster. The pressure in his balls grew bigger and bigger. Irene's pussy started squeezing again—she was coming a second time, harder than the first. Her whole body shook, toes curled, nails digging deep into his arms.
That pushed him over. Aldric pushed deep one last time and stayed there, cock jumping inside her as he came. Thick hot cum shot inside her again and again. Irene moaned feeling every pulse, her legs locked tight around him.
They stayed like that for a long minute, breathing hard, bodies stuck together with sweat and cum. Slowly Aldric pulled out. White liquid immediately started leaking from Irene's swollen pussy onto the white sheets.
She smiled lazily, reached down, and rubbed the cum over her clit with two fingers, still sensitive, making herself shake again.
"You always make me a mess," she said softly.
Aldric lay beside her, chest rising and falling fast. He lit a cigarette, took one long drag, and passed it to her. Irene took it, inhaled, and blew smoke toward the ceiling.
They rested maybe twenty minutes, talking little, just touching each other's bodies, kissing slowly. Then Irene stood up, legs still shaky, and walked naked to the bathroom. Her ass moved beautifully. Aldric watched, already feeling himself getting hard again.
She turned on the shower. Steam started filling the bathroom.
"Come wash me," she called.
Aldric stood, walked in, and stepped under the hot water with her. They kissed under the water, hands sliding over wet skin. Irene took soap and rubbed it slow over his chest, stomach, then down to his cock that was fully hard again. She washed him gently, then kneeled in the water and took him in her mouth.
Aldric leaned back against the tiles, eyes closed, enjoying the warm water and her warm mouth. Irene sucked him deep, tongue moving, hand stroking what she couldn't swallow. Water ran down her face and back. She looked up at him with green eyes full of lust.
He pulled her up after some time, turned her to face the wall, and entered her from behind again while the shower water kept falling on them. Irene put her hands on the tiles, pushed her ass back, and let him take her once more. This time it was slower, deeper, more loving almost. Their bodies knew each other perfectly now.
They came together the third time, quietly, holding each other under the water.
After that they dried themselves with big white towels. Irene put on a fresh robe. Aldric dressed slowly, smiling at the marks on his back in the mirror.
"I'll see you next week," she said at the door, kissing him soft and long.
"Maybe sooner," he answered.
He walked out, down the elevator, through the lobby, and out into the hot orange afternoon. The city noise hit him again—motorbikes, vendors shouting, music from bars.
Aldric started his motorcycle, put on his helmet, and drove toward the police station to sign some fake papers before going home.
The sky above San Rosario was strange now. A bright white line cut across the orange, growing bigger and brighter every second. People on the street stopped and looked up. Some pointed. Some took out phones.
Aldric felt the air change, like before a big storm. He took off his helmet to see better.
The white line became a burning ball, bigger than the sun, screaming down toward the city.
Someone shouted, "It's a meteor!"
Aldric had time for one short thought: Irene's cum is still inside me.
Then the sky turned pure white.
The impact came faster than sound. A wall of fire and force hit the city like the fist of God. Buildings exploded outward. The Paradise Grand hotel folded like paper. The street became a river of flame. Aldric and his motorcycle were gone in less than the blink of an eye. Millions of people—rich, poor, sinners, saints—died in the same second.
In room 1508, Irene had just stepped out of the bathroom, hair wet, smiling, reaching for her phone to send Aldric a naked picture.
The last thing she felt was heat so strong it burned the air itself.
Then nothing.
San Rosario was gone. Only a smoking crater and burning sky remained where the city once lived.