Sal y trementina

The smell hit me first—salt, sunscreen, and the sharp bite of turpentine drifting through the open balcony doors. I was on my third day at the seaside hotel, and my canvas was still blank, the white mocking me. That’s when I heard the knock, three quick raps, and a voice that cut through the afternoon heat.

"Hey, you’re the artist, right?"

I turned. A man stood in the doorway, mid-thirties, sandy hair tousled by the wind, wearing nothing but swim trunks and a lazy grin. "I’m Leo. The front desk said you needed a model. I’m volunteering."

I raised an eyebrow, gesturing at the empty stool by the window. "You know this is a nude session, right?"

His grin widened. "I figured. I’m not shy."

"Marina," I said, offering my hand. He took it, his palm warm and dry, and I felt a jolt I hadn’t expected. "Let’s see what you’ve got."

He stripped without ceremony, untying his trunks and letting them fall. I tried to keep my eyes on the canvas, but I couldn’t. His body was lean, sculpted by the sea—broad shoulders, a dusting of hair on his chest, and a cock that was already half-hard, thickening as I watched.

"Like what you see?" he teased, settling onto the stool.

"Shut up and pose," I said, but my voice came out rougher than I intended.

I started sketching, charcoal scratching against the paper, but my hand was unsteady. Every time I glanced up, he was watching me, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. The air grew thick, charged with something unspoken.

"You’re tense," he said, shifting. "Maybe I should help you relax."

Before I could answer, he was off the stool, crossing the room in two strides. His hands found my shoulders, massaging the tight knots there, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

"Leo…" I started, but his thumbs dug deeper, and my protest died on my lips.

He turned me around, his fingers tracing the strap of my sundress. "Let me," he murmured, and I nodded, my heart hammering.

The dress pooled at my feet. He kissed me then, slow and deep, his tongue sliding against mine. I could taste salt on his lips, feel the heat radiating off his skin. My hands found his chest, his nipples, and he groaned into my mouth.

"God, you’re gorgeous," he whispered, pulling back to look at me. His eyes roamed over my body—my breasts, the curve of my hips, the damp patch forming between my thighs.

"Stop staring," I said, but I was smiling.

"Never."

He dropped to his knees, his hands gripping my ass as he buried his face between my legs. His tongue found my clit, flat and warm, and I gasped, my fingers tangling in his hair.

"Fuck…" I breathed, arching into him.

He lapped at me like I was something precious, his tongue circling, flicking, driving me insane. I could feel the orgasm building, a coil tightening low in my belly.

"Leo, I’m gonna—"

He pulled back just as I was about to tip over, leaving me trembling and desperate. I looked down at him, his chin glistening, his eyes dark with want.

"Not yet," he said, standing. He guided me to the bed, laying me back against the pillows. "I want to be inside you when you come."

He positioned himself between my thighs, and I felt the head of his cock nudging at my entrance. He was thick, heavy, and I whimpered as he pushed in, inch by agonizing inch.

"God, you feel incredible," he groaned, his forehead pressed to mine.

"Move," I begged. "Please."

He did. He fucked me slow at first, deep and deliberate, each thrust hitting a spot that made me see stars. Then he picked up the pace, his hips slapping against mine, the sound echoing in the room.

"Yes… right there… don’t stop—"

He reached down, his thumb finding my clit, and I shattered, crying out as my orgasm ripped through me. He kept pounding, relentless, chasing his own release.

"I’m close," he gritted out. "Where do you want it?"

My hand shot up, grabbing his chin. "In my mouth."

He pulled out, and I scrambled onto my knees, my lips parting. He stroked himself, his cock slick with my wetness, and then he was coming, hot and thick, spraying across my tongue. I took it all, swallowing, my eyes locked on his.

He collapsed beside me, panting, a grin spreading across his face. "That was…"

"Shut up," I laughed, wiping my mouth. "We’ve got work to do."

He glanced at the blank canvas. "Is that what we’re calling it?"

"Shut up," I said again, but I was already pulling him closer.

CATEGORIES: [Cum in mouth, Artist, Seaside hotel, Just the two of us, Vacation]