Title: Mierda y Miel

The air is thick with the musky heat of sweat and sex, the acrid sting of bodily indulgence staining the humid room. Maria is on all fours, her body glistening under the dim, yellowed glow of a flickering bulb. You watch the way her spine curves, the soft brown of her skin sheen-slick with perspiration, the muscles in her thighs tensing as she rocks her hips back against you.

Her ass is parted, spread wide by your grip, fingers digging into the plush give of her flesh as you bury yourself in the tight heat of her used-up hole. Every time you pull back, her rim clings, reluctant to release you, gaping just long enough to expose the filthy stretch of her insides before swallowing you whole again.

“Sí, así, papi,” she breathes, voice a decadent mix of raw need and smug amusement, thick with the weight of cock and depravity alike. “Dame más. Fuck me like the nasty slut I am.”

You give her more.

Each thrust is a slick, obscene thing, the sound of your bodies meeting filling the space between her gasping moans. The wet slap of skin, the lewd suck of her hole around your length, the rank, cloying scent of sweat and something dirtier lingering where your stomach presses to her ass. She shudders with every push, every drag of your filth-coated cock grinding against the delicate walls of her insides.

Her hole clenches suddenly, a visceral squeeze around your thickness, and you groan. You know what that means.

“Oh, fuck,” she whines, hands gripping the sheets, her back arching, her toes curling. The first involuntary tremor of release ripples through her, and with it, the undeniable betrayal of her body. A warm, slick mess spills from her, trailing from the tight clutch of her asshole down to her swollen, messy cunt.

Maria gasps, head snapping up, dark curls wild and sweat-stuck to her cheek. She laughs, breathless and delirious. “Mierda, papi, me hiciste cagar.”

The proof is there, streaking the length of your cock as you drag yourself free. A thick, brown stain mars the flushed shaft, smeared and glistening, the stench sharp and undeniable. The scent curls in the air between you, heavy, heady, and absolutely obscene.

Maria looks back at it, at you, her mouth curving into something filthy and triumphant. Without hesitation, she twists, sliding to her knees, fingers wrapping around the soiled length with zero hesitation. She strokes you slow, languid, smearing the filth across your skin, her tongue darting out to taste the musky, bitter remnants clinging to your head.

“Ay, Dios,” she murmurs against you, the vibration of her words sinking straight into your core. “Tastes like sin.”

Her lips part wider, taking you in, the warmth of her tongue an eager, depraved thing as she licks you clean. Every inch, every crevice, every tainted ridge—she doesn’t shy away, doesn’t recoil. She moans instead, deep in her throat, the sound vibrating through her as she sucks, dragging the filth from your skin, swallowing every last corrupted drop.

The scent is everywhere now, thick in your lungs, in her breath, in the spit-slicked slide of her lips over your length. Her lashes flutter, eyes rolling back, one hand creeping between her legs as she pleasures herself to the taste of her own disgrace.

You fist her hair, yank her forward, shove her down to the base.

“Swallow it, slut.”

She does.

And when you pull her back, her tongue flicks out once more, sweeping the last traces from the tip, a grin curving her filth-smeared lips.

“Más,” she whispers, voice husky, eyes dark with insatiable hunger. “Otra vez.”