After my shower, I walked into the dimly lit room, droplets of water still clinging to my skin. She was there, waiting for me, draped in black lingerie that accentuated every curve. Her eyes locked onto mine with a catlike intensity, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. Without a word, she reached for me, her fingers warm and firm as they wrapped around my growing arousal. Her touch was eager, as if she’d been waiting all day for this moment. She lowered herself to her knees, her gaze never leaving mine, and I felt a rush of heat as her mouth enveloped me. It was slow at first, teasing, then more insistent. Her tongue moved with a practiced precision, each movement sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through my body. It had been years since I’d felt anything like this, and I could hardly keep myself steady as she worked her magic. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I pulled her up, and our bodies pressed together, skin on skin, slick with anticipation. She felt incredible against me, her curves fitting perfectly into my hands. We fell into the bed, a tangle of limbs and desire, and I could feel the hunger in her movements. We moved together, in rhythm, for the entire hour, every thrust, every gasp building to an electric crescendo. By the time we were finished, our bodies were drenched in sweat, our breathing ragged, but there was a sense of deep satisfaction between us. I knew I’d be back tomorrow, craving more of that same intoxicating energy.