Clic en tacones

The sharp scent of pine resin and fresh snow hit me the second I opened the chalet door, but it was nothing compared to the sight of Lena balanced on those black patent stilettos. Six inches of pure fuck-me leather, straps hugging her ankles, her toned calves flexing as she shifted weight. My cock stirred instantly. She turned, dark hair swinging, lips curved in that knowing smile.

“Finally, Marc. I’ve been practicing my walk for you.”

The mountain chalet was tiny, all wood beams and roaring fireplace, snow swirling past the huge windows. We’d come for a private shoot, just the two of us, far from the city noise. Tension crackled between us from the first glance.

Lena stepped closer, heels clicking on the hardwood like a promise. “You like them?” She lifted one foot, sliding the sharp heel slowly up my thigh until it rested against the growing bulge in my jeans. “They make me feel… dangerous.”

“Fuck, Lena,” I breathed, grabbing her slim waist. My hands slid down to cup her firm ass under the tiny silk robe she wore. No panties. Of course. Desire hit like a drug. I yanked the robe open, exposing her perky tits and the smooth, shaved pussy already glistening.

She laughed low, voice husky. “That’s fast even for you, photographer man.”

“No time for slow today.” I spun her toward the leather couch, bending her over the armrest. Those heels kept her ass high, legs straight, back arched perfectly. I freed my thick cock, veins pulsing, and rubbed the swollen head along her wet slit. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want your cock stretching me right now,” she whispered, glancing back over her shoulder, eyes dark with lust. “Fuck me hard in these heels, Marc. Make them click.”

I thrust in deep on the first stroke, burying every inch into her tight, soaking pussy. She gasped, heels scraping the floor as her body jolted. “Oh shit… so full.”

The wet slap of skin filled the chalet. I gripped her hips, pounding fast, no warm-up, just raw need. Each thrust made her stilettos clack against the wood in erratic rhythm. Her pussy clenched around me, hot and silky, juices coating my balls.

“Harder,” she moaned, pushing back to meet me. “I love how deep you get like this… fuck, your dick feels huge.”

I reached around, fingers finding her swollen clit, rubbing tight circles while I kept slamming into her. The fireplace crackled, snow tapped the windows, but all I heard was her breathy cries and the filthy sound of my cock plunging in and out.

“Turn over,” I growled, pulling out suddenly. She spun, perched on the couch edge, legs spread wide. Those black heels stayed on, one foot hooked behind my back as I drove back inside her. Face to face now, her tits bounced with every thrust. I kissed her hard, tongues sliding, while my hips worked a new rhythm—slow, grinding circles that made her whimper.

“Marc… right there,” she panted against my mouth. “Your cock’s hitting my spot… don’t stop.”

Sweat slicked our skin. I could smell her arousal mixing with the pine. Her hands clutched my shoulders, nails digging in as I sped up again, fucking her with short, brutal strokes. The heels dug into my ass, spurring me on.

“I’m close,” she whispered, voice breaking. “Fill me… cum deep in my pussy.”

Her words pushed me over. I felt her walls flutter, then squeeze hard as she came, a sharp cry echoing off the beams. Her pussy pulsed around my cock, milking me. I buried myself to the hilt and erupted, thick ropes of cum flooding her, spilling out around my shaft as I kept thrusting through the spasms.

We stayed locked like that, panting, her heels still locked behind me. The fire popped. Snow whispered against glass.

Lena smiled, wicked and sated, running one stiletto slowly up my spine. “That was just the warm-up shot, photographer. Wait till I put on the red ones.”