Ratna fucked furiously in hotel after 15 years After fifteen years, I find her in front of me in a restaurant near my house. Ratna. That Indonesian girl who made me lose my mind in Jakarta in 2002, during sweaty salsa nights. I was married then, she wanted exclusivity, I didn't leave my wife, and she disappeared, slamming the door in my face. I learned she'd married a Frenchman and was getting a divorce because the marriage had gone to hell. She's there alone, very thin, her body sculpted by the gym: narrow shoulders, a tiny waist, small, firm breasts visible under her tight T-shirt, a round, hard ass like marble that stretches her jeans. She's a fitness instructor, you can tell. We hug tightly, kisses on the cheeks that become too long. She tells me about her divorce, how lonely she feels. I'm still married, but just looking at her makes me horny. Secret messages that get dirtier and dirtier. She sends me pictures of her ass in a thong after class, and I text her what I'd do to her as soon as we're alone. One evening, we book one of those discreet love hotels outside the city: beautiful, clean, separate entrances, no traditional reception, you pay cash at the machine and take the key. No ID, no one sees you. As soon as the door closes, we pounce on each other. I rip off her sweatshirt, grab those tiny, firm tits, nipples hard as nails, and pinch them until she gasps. She pulls down my pants, takes my cock in her hand and squeezes it: "Fuck, I've missed that so much." I throw her onto the immaculate king-size bed. I spread her legs, pull off her already soaking panties, and slide two fingers inside her at once. She's incredibly tight, hot, dripping wet. She moans loudly, arching. I lick her smooth pussy, suck her clit until she quivers and comes for the first time, squeezing my head between her lean, toned thighs, spraying myself on my tongue. I can't resist. I put on a condom and thrust deeply into her. She screams, scraping my back. I pump her hard, she thrusts her hips against me, the bed slapping rhythmically. Her small tits jiggle slightly, her firm ass I grab and squeeze with every thrust. I flip her doggy style. That round, rock-hard ass before my eyes: I slap it hard, leaving a red mark on the taut skin. I enter her from behind, watching it tremble with every thrust. I slide a finger into her tight ass while I fuck her—she goes crazy, pushes back, comes a second time, squeezing my cock like a vice, screaming my name. I put her on top. She rides me furiously, her lean, sculpted body moving perfectly, her thigh muscles flexing, her ass slapping against my balls. I squeeze her little tits, she speeds up and comes again, soaking everything, moaning dirty words in Indonesian and Italian: "Fuck me harder... yes, like this..." I can't take it anymore. I flip her over, lift her skinny legs on my shoulders, and pound her to the hilt. I tell her, "I'm coming," and explode with a grunt, pushing every last drop. We stay there, sweaty, panting on the cool sheet. She laughs softly, kisses me: "Finally." Since then, we see each other whenever we can: always in those anonymous love hotels, cash and no trace. We fuck everywhere in the room—against the mirror, in the shower, on the couch—multiple orgasms every time, she comes easy and hard, soaking everything. Last time in a love hotel near the airport before my return to Italy: I take her against the window, her firm ass pressed against the glass, I come in her mouth while she looks out. She swallows it all, looks me in the eyes. We separate again. But every now and then a message arrives: a photo of that perfect ass in gym leggings, with the caption “Do you remember?” And I do, damn it, do I remember.

Allforher
13-12-2025 17:19:28h