Backstage with Marketa

The day finally broke, and I headed back to Brno with one thing on my mind. The moment I set foot in town, I went straight to her. Mr. Walton had picked Marketa, and fuck, he knew what he was doing. She met me at the door already barefoot, skin warm from a recent shower. The second we touched, the hunger hit hard—fast kisses, hands everywhere, clothes hitting the floor. She climbed on top, slick already, took me in with one slow drop of her hips. We moved like we’d been starving for each other. I held her waist, felt her clench around me every time I thrust up, watched sweat bead between her breasts while she rode. Later I flipped her onto all fours and fucked her deeper, deeper still until her moans turned ragged and her cunt pulsed hard around my cock. She came shaking, face in the pillow, and I followed right after, emptying into her with a low groan that shook the room.