This story was created automatically with AI support. All characters are adults. 18+.
The sweet, heavy scent of blooming chestnut trees hung in the balmy evening air as I strolled through the narrow, cobblestone streets of Kreuzberg. I wore a simple, dark green dress that clung tightly to my curves and left my legs bare. The fabric was soft and cool against my skin, and I felt strong, confident. In my handbag was the translation of the catalog text for the exhibition opening tonight. The publisher, Markus, had asked me to do it. He was in his mid-forties, with silver temples and a thoughtful melancholy that had always attracted me. We had met a few times at readings, but never alone. Tonight was different. When he waited for me at the entrance of the gallery, I saw the sparkle in his eyes—hungry, greedy, full of anticipation.
“You look stunning,” he said softly, his voice rough. His hand closed around mine, and I immediately felt the heat radiating from his fingers. I smiled, my heart pounding louder. “Thanks. The text is ready,” I replied, but the words sounded hollow. The art, the text, all of that was just a side issue now. We walked through the crowded rooms of the gallery. Paintings hung on the walls, modern sculptures of glass and steel stood on pedestals. But I saw none of it. I only felt his closeness, the scent of his expensive perfume, a mix of cedarwood and something spicy that made my head spin. He led me to a large painting depicting a scene from an old myth—a naked man embracing a woman, their bodies intertwined. “What do you think of it?” he asked, his mouth close to my ear. His breath was warm on my skin. “I think it’s about longing,” I whispered back. Our shoulders touched. The air around us was electrically charged, as if all the other guests had vanished and only the two of us existed in this room.
We stood so close that I could feel the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of my dress. His hand let go of mine and gently placed itself on my lower back, right above my ass. I felt my breath quicken, my nipples hardening beneath the dress. “I want you,” he said suddenly, his voice barely audible, but the words hit me like a blow. I looked at him, his face serious, his eyes dark with desire. “Then take me with you,” I breathed, my whole body trembling. Without another word, he took my hand and pulled me out of the gallery. The cool night air enveloped us as we walked the few streets to his apartment. His hand trembled slightly as he put the key in the lock. The apartment was small but cozy. Books were stacked on the floor, a huge painting hung above the couch. The air smelled of old paper and candle wax. He closed the door behind me, and the soft click of the lock made me shiver. We stood facing each other, my heart hammering in my chest.
He made the first move. His hands landed on my shoulders, slowly sliding down the fabric of my dress. His fingers were hot, burning through the fabric onto my skin. “I’ve imagined this so often,” he murmured, his mouth close to mine. “Having you here. Touching you.” I didn’t answer. I just let my head fall back as his lips traveled down my neck. He kissed me while his hands pushed the thin strap dress over my shoulders. The fabric fell to the floor, and I stood in the pale light of the streetlights in my underwear before him. Just a black bra that barely covered my breasts, and a tiny thong that disappeared between my ass cheeks. He moaned softly when he saw me. “My god, you are so fucking hot,” he panted, his eyes greedily fixed on my body. His hands found my waist, pulling me to him. I felt his hard cock through his pants against my stomach. My breath caught. “Get undressed,” I whispered hoarsely, my hands trembling as I tugged at his belt. He did it with hasty impatience. Shirt, pants, underwear—everything landed on the floor. His cock sprang free, hard and thick, the glans already glistening with excitement. I licked my lips. “Come here,” I said, and let myself fall onto the couch, my legs slightly open, staring at him.
He followed me, his body over mine. His lips found mine, hard and demanding. His tongue entered my mouth, and I felt his hand on my bra clasp. With a practiced move, he opened it, and my breasts fell out. They were full and heavy, my nipples hard like little pebbles. He leaned down and took one in his mouth. His tongue circled the tip while his fingers twisted the other nipple. A shiver of lust shot through my body. I moaned, my hands burying themselves in his silver-gray hair. “Oh yes, right there,” I panted. His tongue wandered down over my stomach until he reached between my legs. He pushed the narrow thong aside, and I was naked before him. My pussy was already wet, my labia moist and swollen. “Damn, you’re so wet,” he groaned, almost reverently. Then he leaned down and licked me. The first contact of his tongue on my clit made me cry out. He licked me with long, slow strokes, then with small, fierce thrusts. His fingers slid inside me, two, then three, and he fingered me while he licked my cunt. I arched my back, my pelvis pressed against his face. “Fuck me with your tongue,” I screamed, my voice choked with pleasure. “Yes, fuck me, finish me off.”
He obeyed. His tongue penetrated deep inside me while his nose pressed against my clit. I felt the tension building in my stomach, my muscles contracting. “I’m coming,” I panted, and then I exploded. My body twitched and trembled under his mouth as a wave of orgasm rolled through me. I moaned loudly, my back arching, and I pressed his tongue deeper into me. He didn’t let up, licking me through the orgasm until I lay exhausted on the couch, my heart racing. He sat up, his face glistening with my moisture. “That was just the beginning,” he said with a wide grin. His hand wrapped around his cock, which still stood hard and stiff before him. “I want to fuck you from behind. I want to see myself fucking your ass.” I immediately turned around and got on my hands and knees. My ass was thrust up in the air, my wet pussy glistening in the dim light. I looked back at him, my eyes full of lust. “Then do it,” I hissed. “Fuck my ass, Markus. Make me your whore.”
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