Hank had just settled onto the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly beneath his weight. The adrenaline from the hallway confrontation had begun to ebb, replaced by a lingering sense of unease and a strange, unfamiliar arousal. He had poured himself a generous glass of whiskey, the amber liquid a temporary balm, and had spent the last twenty minutes on the balcony, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the lingering tension. Now, he thought, perhaps a bit of rest was in order.

  But just as his ass made contact with the mattress, a soft knock echoed through the room. He stood up, a jolt of surprise and curiosity coursing through him. He walked over to the door and pulled it open.

  Outside stood Doria. But this wasn't the Doria from the hallway. This was a transformation. She had shed the day's clothes, replacing them with a whisper-thin kimono, a delicate garment that barely concealed the curves beneath. It was a bold move, a deliberate display of vulnerability and intent. In her hand, she held a glass of wine, the ruby liquid catching the light.

  "Hank, I want to thank you properly," she whispered, her voice husky and laced with a newfound confidence.

  Without waiting for an invitation, she stepped into his room, her movements fluid and purposeful. As he closed the door behind her, she was on him. Her lips, soft yet insistent, pressed firmly against his, a kiss that was both grateful and undeniably sensual.

  "Doria, your husband," Hank managed to whisper, a flicker of hesitation in his voice, though a thrill of anticipation already coursed through him.

  She smirked, a playful glint in her eyes, the vulnerability replaced by a seductive allure. "One night. I will never say a thing," she whispered back, her breath warm against his skin.

  Hank saw a flicker of something more than gratitude in her gaze, a spark of desire, perhaps even a touch of something darker, something Maerisa-esque. He smiled, his own desire growing. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low and suggestive.

  She kissed him again, her urgency growing, then she let the kimono slide off her shoulders, the silk pooling at her feet. She was completely naked underneath. The sight was breathtaking. She may have been fifteen years his senior, but her body was a testament to her athleticism, toned and firm from years of volleyball. Her breasts, full and proud, barely showed any signs of age, those DDs inviting a touch, a taste. And her pussy, clean-shaved, presented itself to him, a glistening drop of arousal already visible on her parted lips.

  Hank's breath hitched. He couldn't deny the potent mix of lust and awe. He pulled off his shirt, the fabric falling to the floor, and stepped closer to her, his gaze sweeping over her body. "One night?" he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

  She nodded, her eyes locked on his, her hands reaching for him, finding his hard cock straining against the fabric of his boxer shorts. "Good. You are big," she whispered, her voice a sultry purr.

  She lowered herself to the floor, her movements graceful and deliberate, and pulled down his shorts, revealing the full length of his erection. She paused for a moment, her eyes drinking him in, then she licked the tip of his cock, the head already glistening with a drop of precum. The taste was sweet, intoxicating, nothing like the blandness she had grown accustomed to with her husband. A shudder of pleasure ran through her, a visceral reaction to his masculinity.

  She took him deep into her mouth, her lips and tongue expertly massaging him, sucking him with a practiced rhythm. She pulled him out again, her eyes meeting his, a wicked smile playing on her lips. "When you cum, cum on my face," she whispered, the request a potent mix of dominance and surrender.

  She started to suck again, her movements more urgent, more demanding. Hank moaned, the sound raw and guttural, his eyes closing as he leaned against the door, surrendering to the exquisite sensation. Doria's mouth was a furnace, her tongue a flame, and he was burning in her heat.

  For fifteen glorious minutes, Doria had turned Hank into her personal symphony. Her tempo, a masterful conductor's baton, had shifted and swirled, taking him on a rollercoaster of sensations. She had plunged him deep, then teased him with the exquisite torture of just the head, her lips and tongue creating a vortex of pleasure. Several times, he had hovered on the precipice of release, the tension coiling within him, only to have her change tactics, prolonging the delicious agony. His urgency would subside, only to flare up again, stronger, more insistent, moments later. She was a fucking goddess at cock-sucking, a maestro of oral pleasure, and Hank was her rapt audience, his body singing with every touch. He was in heaven, his legs trembling beneath him, his desire to cum a fever pitch.

  Finally, she went deep, taking him all the way down her throat, her eyes locking with his, a silent promise of release. "Fuck… Doria, I'm going to cum," he gasped, his voice raw and thick with desperate need.

  She pulled his cock from her throat, the wet sound echoing in the room, and started to stroke him, her hand a blur of motion, her grip firm and demanding. The cock aimed straight at her face, a deliberate offering. He came then, a powerful eruption that seemed to shake his entire body. Spurt after spurt shot out, painting her face with his seed, the hot liquid splattering against her skin. She opened her mouth, a guttural moan escaping her lips, catching a few of the initial bursts. She swallowed, the taste of him a potent aphrodisiac, a stark contrast to the blandness she was used to.

  Once he was done, his spasms subsiding, she took him into her mouth again, her tongue meticulously cleaning him, savoring every last drop. She noticed he was still hard, a testament to his potent arousal. A triumphant smile bloomed on her face. "Let's go into the hot tub," she whispered, her voice husky and filled with a possessive hunger.

  She used a finger to scoop some of the remaining cum from her cheek, licking it off with a slow, deliberate motion, her eyes never leaving his. Hank, still reeling from the intense orgasm, watched her, his gaze glazed with awe and desire. He smirked, the corner of his mouth lifting in a slow, knowing smile. He didn't pull back from her cum-covered face, didn't flinch, didn't hesitate. He simply met her gaze, his own desire mirroring hers. Her husband would never, not in a million years, have done that. He was squeamish, repulsed by the idea of coming on her face, a stark contrast to Hank's uninhibited passion. This, this raw, primal act, was a fantasy she had harbored for years, a desire that had been simmering beneath the surface, and Hank had just fulfilled it with an effortless, intoxicating masculinity.

  In a daze of pleasure and anticipation, Hank nodded. Together, they walked out onto the balcony, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the heated intimacy of the room. The hot tub was already warm, the water shimmering invitingly, a reminder of Hank's earlier soak. He turned on the bubbles, the water frothing around them, creating a sensual, secluded haven. He leaned back against the edge of the tub, his eyes fixed on Doria.

  She straddled him, her movements deliberate and seductive, her body hot and slick against his. She kissed him, her lips hungry and demanding, her hands reaching down between them, guiding his still-erect cock into her wet folds. The sensation was immediate, electrifying. "Tonight… oh god," she moaned, her voice thick with pleasure as he penetrated her deep, filling her completely. The feeling of him inside her, the fullness, the power, it was a revelation.

  "Tonight you are mine," she finished, her voice a possessive purr, claiming him with a fierce intensity. Then, she started to rotate her hips, her movements slow and deliberate, each thrust driving him deeper, her desire to fuck him with abandon unleashed. Her breasts, full and heavy, bounced tantalizingly in his face, the nipples hard and erect. Hank latched onto the right nipple, his mouth hot and hungry, sucking like a desperate child, his hands gripping her firm ass, his fingers digging into her flesh as she rode him with a primal rhythm.

  Doria came twice in rapid succession, her body convulsing with the force of the orgasms, her cries echoing through the night. But instead of diminishing his arousal, it only served to drive him deeper, harder, into her slick, hot pussy. The contractions of her muscles around him were a potent aphrodisiac, fueling his own desire to possess her completely.

  Hank, his senses heightened, his blood roaring in his ears, lifted her up with surprising strength. He positioned her on the edge of the hot tub, her legs dangling over the side, her body a tempting offering in the soft light. Then, he dove between her legs, his head dipping low, his mouth finding her.

  "Fuck…" she yelled out into the night, the sound raw and uninhibited, a primal release of pleasure and abandon. She didn't care if anyone heard her, if the other hotel guests were disturbed. In this moment, she was consumed by the intensity of the sensation, transported to a realm of pure, unadulterated ecstasy. Hank was her god, her master, and his touch was divine.

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  Fuck, this young man could lick. His tongue was a flame, his mouth a vortex, and he knew exactly where to touch, where to tease, where to devour. He hit all the right spots, the sensitive nub, the swollen lips, the delicate folds, his expertise igniting a firestorm within her. Her legs snaked around his head, her grip possessive, holding him tight against her pussy, demanding more. Her hands found his hair, her fingers digging into his scalp, pulling him even closer, wanting to feel him deeper, wanting him to taste her more intimately.

  Then she came again, her body arching off the edge of the tub, her cries reaching a fever pitch. And for the first time in her life, she squirted. A gush of liquid erupted from her, a powerful release that surprised and overwhelmed her. It sprayed across Hank's face, warm and potent, a testament to her unbridled pleasure.

  But Hank never stopped licking. He didn't pause, didn't flinch, didn't hesitate. He dove deeper into her pussy, his tongue relentless, his mouth a hungry vortex. He was determined to taste every drop of her, to explore every inch of her, to drive her to the edge of madness. His tongue did things to her that she had never experienced before, things that her husband, in his timid, unimaginative lovemaking, had never even considered.

  She came again, the fourth orgasm of the night, each one more intense, more shattering than the last. She shook uncontrollably, her body trembling with ecstasy. "Fuck Hank, fuck me," she whispered, her voice breathless, desperate, pleading for more.

  Hank rose from between her legs, his eyes burning with a possessive fire. He positioned himself by her wet lips, the evidence of her pleasure still clinging to his face, a badge of honor. Then, he thrust forward, his cock finding its home within her with a force that made her gasp. The feeling of him plunging deep inside her again, the fullness, the power, was almost enough to make her cum again, but the feeling of him hammering his cock in again and again, the rhythmic thrusts that threatened to tear her apart in the best possible way, that did it.

  The fifth orgasm wrecked through her body, a tidal wave of sensation that washed over her, leaving her breathless and weak. She wrapped her legs around him again, her grip desperate, her body demanding more. He kept hammering his cock into her, his movements relentless, his desire matching her own. She moaned, her voice thick with lust and surrender. "Fuck Hank, cover my body with your cum," she begged, her eyes pleading with him.

  Hank looked into her eyes, the hunger, the desperation, the unadulterated desire burning within them. She wanted something she had never had before, a primal, uninhibited release, a complete surrender to pleasure. He nodded, his eyes promising to fulfill her every fantasy.

  With a hard thrust, he felt himself getting there, the tension coiling within him, the release imminent. He thrust into her twice more, his movements powerful and forceful, then he pulled out his cock, the head glistening with his seed. He aimed at her breasts, her beautiful, full DD breasts that had tormented his fantasies.

  The cum fired out, a hot, thick stream that splattered against her body, covering her in a glistening sheen. Doria moaned, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. She ran her hands over the sticky mess, rubbing it all over her skin like a decadent lotion, savoring the feel, the taste, the primal connection. She closed her eyes, her face tilted towards the sky, her body radiating a sensual surrender. "Fuck Hank, where have you been all my life?" she whispered, the words a testament to the intensity of the experience, the revelation of her own desires.

  Hank smirked, his cock still hard, fueled by her hunger and the power he felt in that moment. He lowered it and thrust into her again, the feeling of him filling her again sending a jolt of ecstasy through her. Then, he kissed her, his lips finding hers, his tongue tracing her mouth with a possessive claim. "Want more?" he asked, his voice low and seductive.

  Her eyes shot open, her gaze locking with his, her face flushed with passion. She felt his cock thrust into her again, the sensation igniting a fire within her. She nodded feverishly, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Fuck yes," she whispered, her voice thick with desire, her body aching for more.

  Hank kept fucking her, his thrusts powerful and relentless, each one a testament to his potent desire and the intoxicating effect she had on him. Their moans, low and guttural at first, escalated into cries of pure, unadulterated pleasure, echoing through the night. Doria, her inhibitions long forgotten, surrendered completely to the ecstasy, her body arching and twisting beneath him.

  At one point, amidst the rhythmic pounding and the cries of passion, Hank heard a faint sound, a ripple in the night's symphony. It was female laughter, a series of soft giggles that seemed to float on the warm air. He glanced towards the neighboring balcony, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. He could see the silhouettes of figures, their forms indistinct, but their voices unmistakable. Doria's roommates had returned.

  They couldn't see the intimate scene unfolding in the hot tub, the bodies entwined, the sweat glistening on skin, the raw intensity of the moment. But they could certainly hear it. Doria's screams of pleasure, loud and uninhibited, carried easily through the night. They could most likely guess, with vivid clarity, what was transpiring.

  Hank leaned in close to Doria's ear, his breath hot against her skin. "Your roommates know what you're doing," he whispered, his voice low and suggestive, a playful challenge in his tone.

  She looked into his eyes, her own eyes glazed with lust and satisfaction. He thrust into her again, the force of his cock driving deep, and she gasped, her body responding with an involuntary shudder of pleasure. Then, she heard the giggles again, clearer this time, punctuated by a whispered, "Oh my god."

  Her face flushed a deep crimson, a mixture of embarrassment and a strange, defiant pride. This was supposed to be a secret, a stolen moment of hedonistic pleasure. But Hank, with his incredible skill, his overwhelming passion, his ability to unlock desires she had long suppressed, had brought her to a point where she had lost all control. Her moans, her cries, her screams, they had been involuntary, a testament to the sheer power of the sensations he evoked.

  She sighed, a breathy, surrender sound, then she kissed him, her lips hungry and demanding. "Too late now," she whispered, her voice husky and filled with a reckless abandon.

  She started to move on his cock again, her hips rotating with a renewed urgency, her body demanding more. He smiled, a predatory gleam in his eyes, reveling in her uninhibited desire. The fucking picked up again, the rhythm becoming more frantic, more intense.

  At one point, when Doria came hard, her body arching and her cries reaching a fever pitch, one of the girls on the neighboring balcony hollered, her voice laced with a mixture of awe and envy. "Fuck yeah, Doria! Get that dick!"

  Hank chuckled, the sound a low rumble in his chest, but he didn't stop. He kept fucking her, his thrusts deep and powerful, his body consumed by the primal rhythm. Doria had long lost count of her orgasms, each one more intense, more shattering than the last. She was a woman reborn, her desires unleashed, her body reveling in the unbridled pleasure.

  Then, as she felt herself building towards another earth-shattering climax, she kissed him, her lips desperate and demanding. "Fucking cum in me," she moaned, her voice pleading, her body arching towards him.

  Hank, his own release imminent, thrusted harder and harder into her, his body straining with the effort. "Fuck…" she hissed, her muscles clenching around him, the sensation almost unbearable.

  Then, he felt it, the unmistakable surge of pleasure, the cum rising in his balls, demanding release. He plunged deep into her, his thrusts reaching the deepest recesses of her body, feeling the opening to her cervix, the ultimate intimacy. And he came, a powerful eruption that filled her insides with his hot, potent seed.

  She kissed him deeply, her lips clinging to his, her body shuddering with the aftershocks of her own orgasm. "Best fuck ever," she whispered, her voice thick with satisfaction, her eyes shining with a newfound intensity.

  Hank smiled, a genuine, heartfelt expression. "Yeah… you were fucking fantastic," he whispered back, his voice hoarse with exertion and awe.

  On the neighboring balcony, the girls shifted, their voices hushed but filled with a palpable mix of jealousy and fascination. They had heard everything, the moans, the cries, the explicit words of pleasure. They imagined the scene unfolding, the bodies entwined, the raw passion, and a pang of longing, a desire to experience that kind of uninhibited ecstasy, stirred within them. They glanced at each other, a silent acknowledgment of the primal energy that had filled the night, a shared understanding of the powerful connection they had just overheard.

  Hank pulled his cock from her pussy, the sound wet and intimate, and Doria's response was immediate and possessive. She pulled him closer, her hands firm on his arms, and locked her lips around his cock, her mouth hot and demanding. She sucked him clean, her gaze intense and unwavering, her eyes burning with a renewed hunger.

  She pulled back slightly, her voice a husky whisper. "You better give me your number. I want to repeat this. Soon," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

  Hank, his body still humming from the afterglow, bend down and kissed her, a slow, lingering kiss. "What happened to just one night?" he asked, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

  She smirked back, her eyes sparkling with mischief and a touch of possessiveness. "You shattered that with your cock," she said, her voice laced with a playful challenge.

  Hank chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. He reached over to the table on the balcony and picked up a business card, the sleek black card with his name and contact details. He handed it to her.

  She sat up straighter, her eyes widening in surprise as she read the card. "Wait, you're @HankShootsReal..." she said, her voice filled with a mixture of recognition and intrigue.

  Hank nodded, his smirk widening. "The one and only."

  "Fuck," she breathed, a hint of excitement in her tone. "The girls on the team were talking about you. Something about you maybe coming to take pictures," she said, her eyes searching his.

  Hank nodded. "Tomorrow your tournament starts. I'll be there," he confirmed, the promise in his voice evident.

  Her smile widened, a flash of something possessive and enticing. "Don't tell the girls what we just did," she said, her voice a low purr.

  He laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "Don't worry, I don't plan on it. Besides, I think at least one of them wants the same thing," he said, his eyes scanning her face.

  She chuckled, a knowing sound. "That has to be Courtney. She's... enthusiastic," she said, a hint of playful exasperation in her voice.

  Hank smirked, remembering the brief glimpse he'd caught of her. "Short blond hair, blue eyes," he said, his voice suggestive. He recalled the way she moved, a certain confident sway, and the way her athletic wear hugged her curves.

  She smiled and nodded, confirming his impression. "Yeah, that's her alright," she said, her eyes twinkling.

  Then, they both leaned back in the water, the tension easing, replaced by a comfortable intimacy. Doria snuggled right into his arms, her body pressed against his, the warmth a pleasant reminder of the passion they had just shared.