06-09-2026, 08:31 AM
The first round had left Pooja lying on her back in the middle of the large bed, face and breasts streaked with thick cum, the emerald one-piece discarded on the floor. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Matteo stood at the edge of the mattress looking down at her, still hard, the heavy length of his cock glistening.
He did not give her long to recover.
**Matteo** (voice low and rough):
On your knees. Clean me.
Pooja rolled over and crawled to him without hesitation. She took his thick cock in both hands and licked the remaining cum from the head, then opened her mouth and sank down. She sucked him slowly at first, tasting herself mixed with him, then deeper, letting saliva run down the shaft. Matteo watched her with dark eyes, one hand resting on the back of her head but not forcing.
**Matteo**:
Good girl. Get it wet again. I’m going to use you harder this time.
When he pulled her off his cock it left her lips shiny and swollen. He pushed her onto her back, spread her thighs wide, and dropped between them. There was nothing gentle about the way he ate her this time. He sucked her clit hard, pushed two fingers inside her, and curled them roughly while his tongue worked. Pooja’s back arched off the bed.
**Pooja** (already moaning):
Ahh— fuck… your mouth…
He kept her there until her thighs trembled and she came with a sharp cry, wetness coating his lips and chin. Only then did he rise, wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, and drag her to the edge of the bed.
He entered her in one hard thrust.
The stretch forced a loud, broken sound from her throat. This round had none of the earlier patience. He fucked her with deep, powerful strokes, hands gripping the soft flesh of her hips hard enough to leave new marks. The wet slap of his body against hers filled the suite.
**Matteo** (thrusting steadily):
Look at me. Whose pussy is this?
**Pooja** (eyes half-lidded, voice shaking):
Yours… it’s yours…
**Matteo**:
Louder.
**Pooja**:
It’s yours— ah fuck— your cock owns it—
He pulled out suddenly.
**Matteo**:
Suck.
She scrambled up and took him into her mouth again, tasting her own wetness on his shaft. She bobbed her head quickly, messy and eager, until he pulled her off by the hair and turned her around.
He pushed her onto all fours and slammed back inside.
The new angle made her drop her face into the sheets and cry out. He spanked her ass hard — once, twice, three times — each slap sharp and loud. Then he gripped her hips and pounded her with short, brutal strokes that made her whole body jolt forward.
**Matteo**:
Do you like being fucked like a whore after five years of nothing?
**Pooja** (moaning into the mattress):
Yes— yes I do— don’t stop—
**Matteo**:
Tell me what you want.
**Pooja**:
Harder… fuck me harder… use me…
He delivered. The pace became almost punishing. When he reached under her and rubbed her clit roughly she came again, thighs shaking, a broken scream muffled by the sheets. He fucked her through it without slowing.
Again he pulled out.
**Matteo**:
Mouth.
She turned, took him between her lips, and sucked greedily, saliva dripping down her chin and onto her breasts. He let her clean him for only a short time before lifting her bodily and carrying her to the large sofa in the living area of the suite.
He sat down and pulled her onto his lap facing him. She sank down onto his cock with a long, open-mouthed moan. He gripped her ass and bounced her hard, forcing her to take every thick inch on every downward movement. Her heavy breasts swayed in front of his face; he caught one nipple in his mouth and bit down.
**Matteo** (between bites):
Are you going to leave your husband for this cock?
**Pooja** (riding desperately):
I— ah— I’m thinking about it every day—
**Matteo**:
Not thinking. Say it properly.
**Pooja**:
I want to leave him… I want this… I want you to keep fucking me like this—
He stood up still inside her, carried her to the floor-to-ceiling window, and pressed her back against the cool glass. The city lights blurred behind her. He hooked one of her legs high over his arm and thrust upward with brutal force. The new position made her cry out loudly against his neck.
**Matteo**:
Does it feel deeper like this?
**Pooja**:
Yes— so deep— you’re in my stomach—
**Matteo**:
Good. Take it.
He kept her there for a long stretch, fucking her hard enough that her bare shoulders squeaked against the glass. When her moans turned into continuous broken sounds he pulled out once more and pointed down.
She dropped to her knees on the thick carpet and took him into her mouth again, sucking with complete surrender, eyes watering, spit running down her neck. He watched her for almost a full minute before hauling her up, bending her over the back of the sofa, and entering her from behind for the final stretch of the round.
This time he did not hold back at all.
One hand twisted in her hair, the other spanked her ass in rhythm with his thrusts. The wet, filthy sound of their bodies filled the entire suite.
**Matteo** (voice rough):
Who owns this married cunt?
**Pooja** (screaming):
You— you own it—
**Matteo**:
Who’s going to fill it?
**Pooja**:
You— please fill me— please—
He lasted longer than she expected. When he finally came it was with a deep, guttural sound, burying himself to the base and pumping thick ropes of cum deep inside her. The volume of it made her moan in shock; she could feel every pulse. He stayed locked against her until the last spurt finished, then slowly pulled out.
Cum immediately began to leak from her in a heavy stream, running down the inside of both thighs and dripping onto the carpet between her high heels.
Pooja remained bent over the sofa, panting, hair wild, ass red from his hands, pussy still twitching open. Matteo ran one palm slowly over the warm skin of her backside, then down between her legs, gathering some of the mess on his fingers and pushing it back inside her.
**Matteo** (quietly, almost darkly pleased):
Still so greedy. We’re not even finished with the first night.
Pooja turned her head enough to look at him over her shoulder. Her lipstick was completely ruined, her eyes glassy, her voice almost gone.
**Pooja**:
Then don’t stop.
Outside the sealed windows the city continued, unaware.
Inside the suite the air smelled of sex and sweat, and the second round had only sharpened the hunger rather than satisfied it.
---
He did not give her long to recover.
**Matteo** (voice low and rough):
On your knees. Clean me.
Pooja rolled over and crawled to him without hesitation. She took his thick cock in both hands and licked the remaining cum from the head, then opened her mouth and sank down. She sucked him slowly at first, tasting herself mixed with him, then deeper, letting saliva run down the shaft. Matteo watched her with dark eyes, one hand resting on the back of her head but not forcing.
**Matteo**:
Good girl. Get it wet again. I’m going to use you harder this time.
When he pulled her off his cock it left her lips shiny and swollen. He pushed her onto her back, spread her thighs wide, and dropped between them. There was nothing gentle about the way he ate her this time. He sucked her clit hard, pushed two fingers inside her, and curled them roughly while his tongue worked. Pooja’s back arched off the bed.
**Pooja** (already moaning):
Ahh— fuck… your mouth…
He kept her there until her thighs trembled and she came with a sharp cry, wetness coating his lips and chin. Only then did he rise, wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, and drag her to the edge of the bed.
He entered her in one hard thrust.
The stretch forced a loud, broken sound from her throat. This round had none of the earlier patience. He fucked her with deep, powerful strokes, hands gripping the soft flesh of her hips hard enough to leave new marks. The wet slap of his body against hers filled the suite.
**Matteo** (thrusting steadily):
Look at me. Whose pussy is this?
**Pooja** (eyes half-lidded, voice shaking):
Yours… it’s yours…
**Matteo**:
Louder.
**Pooja**:
It’s yours— ah fuck— your cock owns it—
He pulled out suddenly.
**Matteo**:
Suck.
She scrambled up and took him into her mouth again, tasting her own wetness on his shaft. She bobbed her head quickly, messy and eager, until he pulled her off by the hair and turned her around.
He pushed her onto all fours and slammed back inside.
The new angle made her drop her face into the sheets and cry out. He spanked her ass hard — once, twice, three times — each slap sharp and loud. Then he gripped her hips and pounded her with short, brutal strokes that made her whole body jolt forward.
**Matteo**:
Do you like being fucked like a whore after five years of nothing?
**Pooja** (moaning into the mattress):
Yes— yes I do— don’t stop—
**Matteo**:
Tell me what you want.
**Pooja**:
Harder… fuck me harder… use me…
He delivered. The pace became almost punishing. When he reached under her and rubbed her clit roughly she came again, thighs shaking, a broken scream muffled by the sheets. He fucked her through it without slowing.
Again he pulled out.
**Matteo**:
Mouth.
She turned, took him between her lips, and sucked greedily, saliva dripping down her chin and onto her breasts. He let her clean him for only a short time before lifting her bodily and carrying her to the large sofa in the living area of the suite.
He sat down and pulled her onto his lap facing him. She sank down onto his cock with a long, open-mouthed moan. He gripped her ass and bounced her hard, forcing her to take every thick inch on every downward movement. Her heavy breasts swayed in front of his face; he caught one nipple in his mouth and bit down.
**Matteo** (between bites):
Are you going to leave your husband for this cock?
**Pooja** (riding desperately):
I— ah— I’m thinking about it every day—
**Matteo**:
Not thinking. Say it properly.
**Pooja**:
I want to leave him… I want this… I want you to keep fucking me like this—
He stood up still inside her, carried her to the floor-to-ceiling window, and pressed her back against the cool glass. The city lights blurred behind her. He hooked one of her legs high over his arm and thrust upward with brutal force. The new position made her cry out loudly against his neck.
**Matteo**:
Does it feel deeper like this?
**Pooja**:
Yes— so deep— you’re in my stomach—
**Matteo**:
Good. Take it.
He kept her there for a long stretch, fucking her hard enough that her bare shoulders squeaked against the glass. When her moans turned into continuous broken sounds he pulled out once more and pointed down.
She dropped to her knees on the thick carpet and took him into her mouth again, sucking with complete surrender, eyes watering, spit running down her neck. He watched her for almost a full minute before hauling her up, bending her over the back of the sofa, and entering her from behind for the final stretch of the round.
This time he did not hold back at all.
One hand twisted in her hair, the other spanked her ass in rhythm with his thrusts. The wet, filthy sound of their bodies filled the entire suite.
**Matteo** (voice rough):
Who owns this married cunt?
**Pooja** (screaming):
You— you own it—
**Matteo**:
Who’s going to fill it?
**Pooja**:
You— please fill me— please—
He lasted longer than she expected. When he finally came it was with a deep, guttural sound, burying himself to the base and pumping thick ropes of cum deep inside her. The volume of it made her moan in shock; she could feel every pulse. He stayed locked against her until the last spurt finished, then slowly pulled out.
Cum immediately began to leak from her in a heavy stream, running down the inside of both thighs and dripping onto the carpet between her high heels.
Pooja remained bent over the sofa, panting, hair wild, ass red from his hands, pussy still twitching open. Matteo ran one palm slowly over the warm skin of her backside, then down between her legs, gathering some of the mess on his fingers and pushing it back inside her.
**Matteo** (quietly, almost darkly pleased):
Still so greedy. We’re not even finished with the first night.
Pooja turned her head enough to look at him over her shoulder. Her lipstick was completely ruined, her eyes glassy, her voice almost gone.
**Pooja**:
Then don’t stop.
Outside the sealed windows the city continued, unaware.
Inside the suite the air smelled of sex and sweat, and the second round had only sharpened the hunger rather than satisfied it.
---
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