Meeting Marketa

She pulled the knot free and let the straps slide down her arms, breasts heavy and pale against the afternoon light. My mouth found her nipple and she arched, fingers pushing through my hair. I tasted sweat there, salt and skin. She reached between us, undid my belt, freed me, and stroked once, slow, testing weight. I pushed inside her and she took all of me in one long breath. Her thighs locked tight around my hips. Every stroke echoed off the high ceilings, wet, steady, deliberate.