Rain-Soaked Memories

Rain hammered against the windows of the little café, and I couldn't tear my eyes away from her lips. Marina sat across from me—my married neighbor from the fifth floor—in a wet trench coat that clung to her tits. Her knee accidentally brushed mine under the narrow table, and that was it. Heat shot straight to my cock, her gaze darkened, her breathing quickened. We both knew this wasn't an accident anymore.

"You always look at married women like that?" she whispered, not pulling her leg away. Her fingers trembled slightly as she wrapped them around her latte cup.

"Only you," I rasped. "Three years now. Every time you step out of the building in that black dress… I picture peeling it off you."

Marina bit her lip. Her cheeks flushed. The rain picked up, the café nearly empty. The waitress disappeared into the kitchen. We were alone in the half-dark.

"I'm married, Sasha…" she breathed, but her knee slid higher, pressing against my rock-hard cock through my pants. "And I still want you. Right now."

I couldn't hold back. Under the table, my hand landed on her thigh, hiked up her wet skirt. My fingers immediately found heat and slickness through her thin panties. She let out a soft gasp.

"Fuck… you're already soaked," I whispered, running a finger along her slit.

"Because I think about you every night," Marina confessed, her eyes gleaming. "When my husband fucks me, I close my eyes and imagine your big cock instead of his."

Her hand dove under the table, unzipped my fly. Hot fingers wrapped around my shaft, started stroking me slowly. I let out a low growl, pushing two fingers into her hot pussy. She was tight, wet, clenching around me from the inside. Marina stifled a moan, biting down on my palm.

We stood up fast. I threw money on the table. She pulled me into the narrow hallway behind the bar, where there was a tiny storage room with a soft couch. The door clicked shut. The rain drowned out our sounds.

Marina dropped to her knees immediately. No foreplay—she took my cock in her mouth, deep, all the way to the back of her throat. Her lips sealed tight around the shaft, her tongue working furiously on the head. She sucked greedily, with wet, slurping sounds, drool running down her chin.

"Suck it harder, you little slut," I breathed out, grabbing her wet hair. "I've wanted to see you on your knees for years."

She moaned, the vibration traveling through my entire cock. One hand squeezed her tits, the other furiously rubbed her clit. I couldn't take it anymore—I yanked her up, spun her around to face the wall. Skirt hiked up to her waist. I just shoved her panties aside.

"Fuck me, Sasha… please," she whimpered, arching her back. "I need to feel you inside me."

I slammed in with one brutal thrust. Her pussy was unbelievably hot and wet, gripping me tight like it had been waiting for me all along. Marina let out a loud moan, bracing her palms against the wall. I started pounding her hard, deep, my balls slapping against her soaked lips. Every thrust punched short, ragged cries out of her.

"Yes… like that… harder! Fuck my married pussy…" she growled, pushing back against me. "I'm yours… tonight I'm your whore."

I grabbed her hips, speeding up. The smell of her arousal, wet skin, coffee, and rain was driving me insane. Her cunt started pulsing, squeezing my cock tighter and tighter. I leaned over, found her clit with my fingers, and started rubbing circles.

"Cum for me, Marina. I want to feel you gush."

She shattered almost instantly—her body arched, legs trembling, a long moan tearing from her throat. Hot juices flooded down my thighs. I didn't stop, kept pounding her through her orgasm until she was sobbing with pleasure.

Then I pulled out, spun her around, and sat her on the couch. Spread her legs wide. Now I could see everything: her swollen, red pussy dripping with her own juices, hard nipples, her mouth hanging open.

"I want to cum in your mouth," I said hoarsely.

"Do it… I want to taste you," she whispered, greedily grabbing my cock slick with her fluids.

Marina took me in her mouth again, even deeper this time. I fucked her throat with short thrusts, holding her head. She stared up at me, tears streaming down her cheeks, but she never stopped. When I felt myself about to blow, I growled:

"Swallow… all of it…"

Hot ropes of cum shot into her mouth. She swallowed greedily, not letting go of my cock until I'd given every last drop. A little spunk leaked from the corner of her lips. She licked it off with her tongue and smiled.

We sat there, breathing hard. Rain still poured outside. Marina pressed against me, tracing a finger down my chest.

"That was… better than in my memories," she said softly. "Now every time I walk past your door, I'll remember how you fucked me in this storage room."

"And I'll remember you on all fours begging for more," I replied, kissing her temple. "And we'll do it again. More than once."

She laughed low, velvet, running her palm over my cock that was already starting to stiffen again.

"Promise?"

"Promise."