Anita's visit

Anita Dark showed up at my hotel in Miami like the whisper of something that would never behave. We stood out on the balcony with the glass towers across the way watching like silent witnesses. She didn’t hesitate. She took my face in her hands and kissed me—slow, deep, all tongue and heat. The breeze curled around our legs and still the kiss lingered, getting hungrier. Right there against the railing her dress came up and her thong came down in one careless tug. I heard the soft cotton land on my shoe. Sunlight spilled across her cunt and I dropped to my knees to taste her. She tasted like ocean air and salt and whatever perfume she carried between her thighs. My tongue pressed through the seam of her cunt, slow licks that turned quick and urgent once her fingers knotted in my hair. Her moans drifted into the wind, carried toward the hotel opposite us, across polished windows, locked doors. I stood again. She freed my cock, pumped it twice, guided me inside her while her back pressed against the glass. The first thrust earned a gasp, the second a broken little yes. Street sounds below mixed with the wet slap of skin on skin. Her cunt gripped tight, slick, perfect. The wind flipped the hair across her mouth and she bit it between her teeth to stay quiet, failing. She turned, bracing on the railing, ass lifted, and I drove into her harder. Anyone looking from the hotel across the way would’ve seen the whole scene: bare thighs, hard cock, hips snapping. Sweat beaded down her spine. When she came she shook so hard her knees buckled; I caught her around the waist and kept moving until my own release punched out hot inside her. Afterward, breath still ragged, we stayed leaning on the rail, watching reflections of ourselves in the glass, waiting to see if the city might answer.