Why I love visiting Anita? - part I.

Why I love visiting Anita? Simple. She draws me in like a secret. Today we meet where we always do, pressed against the cool tile of her bathroom. My hands find her breasts first—full, heavy, warm under my palms. She presses them forward, giving me more. She’s older, a gorgeous milf in every sense, and I’m her favorite little blonde troublemaker. Her fingers slide under the towel draped on my hips and let it drop. Nothing left between us. We kiss hard, slow then urgent, my tongue chasing hers while I roll her nipples between my fingertips. She moans into my mouth, soft and low. She reaches between my legs, finding me already wet, slick heat against her knuckles. She strokes once, twice, then sinks two fingers inside me. I rock against her hand, tits pressed to hers, both of us breathing like we’ve run miles. The water runs. The steam thickens. My lips wrap around one of her nipples, sucking hard, and she gasps my name. I love the way her fingers curl just right, the way her thigh nudges mine open wider. Every thrust sends me closer. Every sound she makes makes me wetter. It’s always like this with her. Hot, quiet, and filthy in the best way.