My corporate job took me all over the world. With more than a hundred travel days a year, I'd become quite the experienced traveler.
I'd stayed in exotic places, slept in luxurious hotels, and dined like royalty.
This is the story of what happened on one of those trips.
Last year, I was sent to Berlin to pitch a multi-million-dollar deal. It involved long, tedious days of back-to-back meetings--and just as many fancy dinners with potential clients.
The company booked me a suite at a five-star hotel downtown. It had everything: a 24-hour bar, its own casino, a massive gym with a pool and sauna, and a luxury spa. No expense spared.
One night, after yet another five-course meal at a Michelin-starred restaurant, I returned to my room--restless. I needed to blow off some steam.
So I grabbed my gym bag and headed down for a late-night workout.
As I stepped into the gym, I was greeted by a receptionist. She stood tall--at least my height--with long black hair pulled back, and a body that practically screamed "disciplined." Fit, toned, impossible to ignore. Her nametag read Victoria.
"Hi there," I said.
She smiled, a cute German accent on her lips. "Hi. Welcome to the gym. The locker rooms are just behind me. You can go right in. Just so you know--we close in fifteen minutes."
"Oh," I muttered, disappointed.
Noticing the drop in my tone, she added, "I'm working out after close anyway. So you can stay as long as I'm here."
"Really? That's very kind of you," I said, smiling.
I passed her and stepped into the men's locker room. I found a locker, stripped out of my suit, and changed into shorts and a t-shirt. After lacing up my shoes, I exited into the hallway. A sign pointed left toward the "Wellness Area" and right toward the "Gym." Across from me was the door to the women's locker room.
The gym was empty. I started with a light jog on the treadmill to warm up. Ten minutes passed fast.
Then she walked in.
Victoria. Towel over one shoulder. Wearing only a tight sports bra and skin-hugging leggings.
I stared. I couldn't help it. She had the kind of body that made your pulse skip. She was even taller than I thought--easily 190cm to my 180. Thick, muscular thighs, sculpted abs, and breasts that looked barely contained in her bra. Amazonian didn't even begin to describe it.
I felt a rising stiffness in my shorts and quickly stepped off the treadmill. I made my way to the rowing machine, turning my back to her to hide the tent forming below my waist. I sat down, trying to focus--but the view in front of me only got worse.
Or better.
She stepped up to the stair machine--directly ahead of me--and started climbing.
Her back arched just enough to make her ass pop. Full, firm, bouncing slightly with every motion. Hypnotic. The way her hips swayed made my cock throb harder. It was like she knew I was watching.
I barely moved the rower, just enough to not seem like a total creep. My mind screamed at my cock to calm the hell down. It didn't listen.
After a few minutes, she stepped over to the squat rack. Facing away again. Of course. She loaded the barbell and began her sets--bending, lowering, rising--those tight leggings stretching dangerously thin over her perfect, round ass.
I stopped pretending to row. I was mesmerized.
Then--suddenly--she dropped the weights, turned toward me, and walked over.
Victoria smiled. I quickly looked down and restarted my slow rowing, cheeks burning.
"Just letting you know," she said, standing beside me. "I turned on the sauna. If you want to relax after you're done. I'm going to unwind there myself before I close up. But take your time."
Her eyes dipped down. She definitely noticed the tent in my shorts.
"I might just take you up on that," I said, forcing a smile.
She winked, turned, and walked away--her hips really swaying now. Too much to be unintentional.
Just as she disappeared behind the women's locker room door, I stood up and made my way to the men's. My body was tense, my cock straining against the fabric of my shorts. On the wall beside the exit, a sign caught my eye:
"Please rinse and wear only a towel before entering the Wellness Area."
Right. I stripped, folded my clothes into the locker, and stepped into the shower. A quick rinse. The water wasn't even warm yet--I just needed to cool down. I wrapped a towel low around my waist, glanced at myself in the mirror, and hesitated.
Was she flirting? Just being friendly? Or did that wink mean exactly what I hoped it meant?
I studied my reflection--slim but defined, 180cm tall, 75kg, decently fit. Not the body of a gym rat, but tight, athletic, healthy. My cock hung heavy beneath the towel, and that--well, that was my ace. 23 cm of thick, veined promise.
Still, I was nervous. Girls like Victoria didn't usually throw themselves at guys like me. I'd had a few lovers, sure. A long relationship that ended in betrayal. A few hookups. Some praise for my size and tongue game--but never someone like her. This wasn't Tinder. This was something... else.
I exhaled and stepped into the Wellness Area.
It was stunning--an oasis of warmth and low light. Pools glowed beneath the surface, a jacuzzi bubbled lazily in one corner, and a soft, calming scent of eucalyptus drifted through the air. I spotted the sauna rooms--one dry, one steam. Both looked empty.
I opened the door to the dry sauna, stepped in... and froze.
Victoria was already inside.
She sat across the room on a towel, legs curled up on the bench, back against the wall. And she was completely naked.
My heart stuttered. My cock pulsed against the towel. I sat opposite her, trying not to stare--but failing. Her body was unreal. Long, muscular limbs. Breasts that were round, perky, and full--real. Not enhanced. Just perfect. Her nipples stood erect, glistening with sweat. Her light brown areolas were tight circles around them. And lower--
God.
A neatly trimmed patch of dark hair above her glistening, bare lips. She was wet. Either from sweat or arousal--I couldn't tell.
I couldn't take my eyes off her.
Then she spoke.
"Ahh, isn't this just perfect?" she said, her voice like a smirk.
"Absolutely," I managed, trying not to sound like I was choking on my own tongue.
She gave me a look. Her eyes flicked down my body, pausing at my hands, which were now awkwardly gripping the towel over my lap.
"You know," she said casually, "saunas feel so much better when you're not wrapped up in fabric."
She locked eyes with me, waiting.
My pulse thudded in my ears.
I took a breath. Then, slowly, I opened the towel. Let it fall to the side. My cock stood straight up, thick, veined, flushed deep purple. Victoria's gaze fixed on it.
"Much better, isn't it?" she purred, leaning her head back--but still watching me under her lashes.
"It sure is," I said softly.
A sheen of sweat ran down her chest, over those perfect breasts, dripping off her nipples. She shifted her legs, lowering one to the floor--and now I could really see.
Her pussy was bare and gleaming, lips slightly parted, glistening. Her clit peeked between them, throbbing softly.
I had to clench my fists to stop myself from touching myself.
"I think," she said suddenly, rising from her seat, "we need a little more steam in here."
She stood, walked over to the oven, and bent forward to pick up the ladle.
And my brain short-circuited.
Her bare, muscular ass arched up, round and juicy, sweat dripping between her cheeks. Her labia glistened between her thighs. And just above her slit, in the tight pucker of her asshole, was a silver buttplug with a green gemstone base.
My jaw dropped. I wasn't imagining things. This woman wanted to fuck. Hard.
She poured water over the stones, and the room hissed, steam rolling around us, fogging the air. She turned slowly, facing me, that predatory smirk now fully formed.
"Now then," she said. "I've seen how you've been looking at me."
I just nodded. Speechless. My cock twitched.
"I hope you're clean," she continued, voice lowering into a command. "Because we're going to fuck."
Holy shit.
"I--uh--yeah, I am," I stammered, unable to look away from her.
"Good," she said. "Spread your legs."
I did.
She placed her towel on the floor in front of me and knelt. Her fingers reached back, tightening her ponytail. She looked up at me with those wicked eyes.
"Here are the rules," she said. "I'm going to make you feel better than you've ever felt. And don't worry about cumming--I plan on us both cumming many times. But you are not going to fuck my pussy. Understand?"
I blinked. Nodded again.
"You'll fingerfuck me. You'll eat me. You'll do everything I ask. But your cock doesn't go in my pussy."
I couldn't speak. I just stared as she wrapped her hand around the base of my cock.
"My, my," she murmured. "You are a big boy."
She spat on it--thick, hot, wet--and lowered her mouth. Without breaking eye contact, she took me in.
All of me.
I gasped, my hips jerking. Her throat clenched around my tip. She gagged softly, then pulled back, eyes watering, her spit coating my shaft. Her tongue lapped at the base, then she dove down again, swallowing every inch.
No one had ever done that to me. Not even close.
Her hand gripped the shaft as she sucked with growing intensity. Wet, loud, obscene. My body shook with effort not to cum too early.
But she felt it. She knew.
She pulled back with a wet pop, looked up at me, and said, "Cum for me. I want to taste you."
Her lips wrapped around me again--and it was over. I erupted in her mouth, moaning, spurting rope after rope down her throat. She swallowed greedily, licking the head, sucking more as I twitched.
"Fuck..." I groaned, breathless.
She licked the final dribbles from my cock, then stood.
Before I could recover, she climbed onto my lap, straddling me, grabbing my hand and guiding it to her soaked pussy.
