Sex stories

I descended into that cellar like one enters a fantasy. The place oozed sex - damp walls, smell of leather, dry cum, man. Red light, veiled, just enough to make out the silhouettes moving in the dark. Not a word. No talking here. We mate. We gauge. We take. I spotted him straight away. Tall, massive, the kind of guy who makes you feel at home with a single glance. He stared at me like prey. I held his gaze, one second, two, and he turned on his heel. He said nothing. Just disappeared behind a thick curtain. I understood the invitation. As soon as I passed the curtain, he slammed me against the wall. Cold. Mean. Exactly what I wanted. His hand squeezed my throat, just enough to take my breath away and make me hard again. He turned me to face the wall, yanked off my belt in one swift motion. My jeans fell off. He didn't even take the time. Just spit in his hand, pulled down his pants and shoved it in me with one blow. I grunted. No tenderness. Just need, dirty, urgent. His thrusts were deep, rhythmic, controlled. He held me by the hips like an object, pushing me against the wall with each thrust. The slaps on my buttocks sounded like orders. I took everything. I wanted it all. The sound of skins, the raw smell, the muffled moans in the concrete - it was . I thought of nothing. Just that cock inside me, his hands on my body, the tension rising, rising... until I unloaded without even touching myself. When he finished, he pinned me against the wall for another second, his breath burning against my neck. Then he left without a word. I waited. Trembling. My legs shot. My back still burning. I was alive as ever