In the heart of Berlin, under a canopy of stars that pierced the velvet night, Anna and Hans found themselves alone in her cozy apartment. Both in their early twenties, they had met at a university lecture on European literature, their eyes locking in a spark of unspoken desire. Tonight marked a milestone neither had crossed before—their first time surrendering to the depths of intimacy. Anna, with her lithe, graceful figure, skin like polished porcelain, full breasts that rose firmly with each breath, pale pink areolas, and tender, plump labia guarding her untouched warmth, felt a mix of excitement and nerves. Hans, strong yet gentle, his body toned from hikes in the Black Forest, carried the weight of his own inexperience.
As they sat on the edge of her bed, the room bathed in soft moonlight filtering through lace curtains, Hans cupped Anna’s face, his thumb tracing her soft lips. ‘I’ve dreamed of this,’ he whispered, his voice husky with anticipation. Anna’s heart raced; she nodded, her cheeks flushing. ‘Me too, but… I’m scared it’ll hurt.’ He kissed her gently, their lips meeting in a tentative dance, tasting the faint sweetness of wine from dinner. His hands explored her curves, fingers gliding over the fine texture of her skin, warm and smooth like silk under moonlight.
They undressed slowly, visually drinking in each other. Anna’s breasts stood proud, nipples hardening into rosy peaks as the cool air kissed them. Hans’s arousal was evident, his penis swelling to full erection, veins pulsing along its length, the head a deep purple-red, glistening with a drop of pre-cum that carried a subtle salty scent. Anna’s eyes widened at the sight, her own body responding with a warm flush between her thighs, her labia swelling slightly, revealing the delicate pink folds and the small, sensitive clit nestled above.
For their first union, Hans guided her to lie back on the soft sheets. He began with tender foreplay, his lips trailing kisses down her neck, tasting the faint salt of her skin mixed with her floral perfume. His tongue circled her nipples, eliciting soft moans that echoed like whispers in the quiet room. Anna’s breaths came in shallow gasps, her hands clutching the sheets. He moved lower, his breath hot against her mound, inhaling the emerging musk of her arousal—a sweet, earthy scent that made his head spin. Gently, he parted her labia with his fingers, feeling the slick warmth of her untouched vagina, tight and inviting, the inner walls already contracting slightly in anticipation.
‘Are you ready?’ Hans asked, his voice trembling. Anna bit her lip, nodding. ‘Yes, but go slow.’ He positioned himself, the swollen head of his penis pressing against her entrance, slick with her moisture. The insertion was deliberate, inch by inch, her tight walls yielding with a mix of resistance and welcome. She gasped at the stretching sensation, a brief sting that melted into fullness as he filled her completely, his length rubbing against the textured folds of her inner walls. The wet sounds of their joining filled the air, a rhythmic squelch accompanying each gentle thrust. Hans felt her heat envelop him, her vagina’s tightness like a velvet glove, pulsing around him.
As he began to move, the rhythm built slowly—from shallow thrusts to deeper ones, each stroke grazing her cervix with a profound, intimate pressure. Anna’s moans grew louder, a symphony of breathy ‘ahs’ and whimpers, her body arching to meet him. The scent of their mingled arousal—her sweet nectar and his musky pre-cum—hung heavy in the air. He tasted her neck, salty with emerging sweat, as their bodies slapped together softly.
High tide approached with Anna’s breaths quickening, her vagina walls fluttering in prelude, love juices flowing more abundantly, coating him in slick warmth. Then, the peak: her body convulsed in waves, muscles tensing from toes to fingertips, her vagina clamping down like a fierce embrace, squeezing his shaft in rhythmic spasms that milked him. She cried out, a sharp, ecstatic scream, as fluids gushed, mixing with his own release deep inside, flooding her with warmth that seemed to touch her very core, a illusory depth where he felt fused to her womb. The afterglow lingered, her walls pulsing gently around him, their combined essences creating a sticky, warm pool that trickled out, evoking a soul-deep satisfaction as they held each other, breaths syncing in harmony.
They lay entwined, whispering affections, but desire reignited soon. Anna, emboldened by the first bliss, straddled him for their second encounter. ‘I want to feel you this way,’ she said, her voice gaining confidence. Her hands roamed his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breaths, the warmth of his skin. She lowered herself onto his renewed erection, the head parting her still-sensitive labia, sliding into her depths with a wet glide. The sensation was different—deeper, her control allowing her to rock and grind, feeling every vein and ridge against her inner folds, the tip nudging her cervix in rhythmic taps.
Their movements synced, her breasts bouncing with each undulation, nipples brushing his chest, sending sparks of touch. The air filled with the slap of flesh, her moans harmonizing with his grunts, and the intoxicating blend of sweat, musk, and their intimate fluids. Taste lingered from kisses, her lips salty-sweet. As climax built, her breaths hitched, vagina spasming lightly, fluids increasing. Ecstasy hit: she shuddered violently, walls contracting in powerful waves, squeezing him like a vice, her scream echoing as she flooded him with her essence, his seed joining in a deep, penetrating release that felt like entering her very womb, the warmth spreading in lingering pulses of unity.
Exhausted yet insatiable, they moved to the bathroom, the steam from the shower enveloping them like a fog of passion. Under the warm cascade, water traced rivulets down Anna’s curves, highlighting her glistening skin. Hans pressed her against the tiled wall from behind for their third time. ‘Like this?’ he asked, nuzzling her neck, inhaling the clean scent of soap mixed with her arousal. She nodded, arching back. His hands gripped her hips, sliding into her from behind, the angle allowing deeper penetration, his penis enveloped in her tight, wet heat, friction intense against her walls.
Water amplified sensations: the slap of wet skin louder, her moans reverberating off walls, the taste of water-kissed lips fresh and pure. Each thrust built speed, from slow grinds to fervent pounds, her labia swelling around him, clit throbbing. The build-up was electric—her breaths ragged, walls twitching, juices mingling with water. Orgasm crashed: her body quaked, vagina convulsing in fierce grips, expelling a torrent of fluid as she wailed, his climax filling her with hot spurts that seemed to breach her deepest core, the aftershocks a gentle throbbing embrace in the steamy haze.
Finally, back in bed for a fourth, tender union in missionary again, they explored slower, more intimately, dialogues of love punctuating each movement. The night faded into dawn, their bodies spent but souls intertwined, the first time evolving into a promise of many more.