Nella's visit

Nella stepped through my door and the months of distance dissolved instantly. I pulled her close before she could set down her bag, and the first kiss hit hard, open-mouthed, tongues meeting with the shock of hunger we’d both carried too long. My hands found her waist while hers tangled in my hair. We backed into the living room without looking where we were going. The sofa caught us. She dropped onto it and dragged me with her. Clothes started peeling away between breaths: shirt buttons, the clasp of her bra, my jeans sliding past my knees. Her nipple hardened under my tongue. She arched, pulling me closer, and I slipped my hand down the front of her panties. She was already slick. I pressed two fingers inside, feeling her clench around me while she reached for my cock, stroking it hard in return. We moved like that—kissing, touching, rocking—until need sharpened and she pulled me on top of her. She guided me in. Heat. Tight grip. The wet sound of each thrust. We fucked slow at first, savoring every inch, then harder when her moans grew rawer. She came biting my shoulder, nails digging into my back. I followed seconds later, buried deep, every muscle shuddering against hers.