Miriam arrived exactly at the appointed time. No smile, no unnecessary word. A German precision that seemed almost sterile—until she shook my hand. Her skin was warm, her gaze alert. Short, sleek hair, steel-gray eyes, a lean, athletic body. “I read your references,” she said. “We’ll do this efficiently but intensely.”
She immediately began to undress with the calm of a surgeon. A cropped hoodie, no bra, no panties—just a fine, beige fishnet pantyhose that stretched over her perfect legs and hips. I stood with the camera, but my focus was already elsewhere.
“You may film, you may watch. But only touch on signal,” she said as she sat on the white armchair with her legs extended. The fishnets revealed nothing but that was exactly her game. She spread her legs, looked me directly in the eye, and whispered: “I want a hole. And I want you to make it.”
I stepped forward slowly and took the scalpel she had prepared. With trembling hand I carefully cut a small cross into the crotch of her tights. She tensed her thighs, and I saw how wet she already was. Her labia glistened under the studio lights, framed by impeccable nylon. She breathed deeply but remained in control.
“Lick me. But gently. I’ll tell you when to go faster.” I knelt before her, slid my tongue through the tiny opening, and began to explore her. Her reaction was almost imperceptible—only a slight tremor, a deepening breath. Then she suddenly moaned—hard, loud, genuine. “Now!”
She came in a wave, pressing my head firmly against her. Her juices ran down my chin, dripping into the torn fishnets. She looked down, grabbed my head with both hands. “Now fuck me. Standing. Hard.”
I stood up, pulled down my pants, and entered her through the torn nylon. She braced her legs against the floor and took each thrust in a controlled rhythm. Her breasts bounced with each movement, her lips formed silent words—an endless cycle of tension and release.
When I came deep inside her, she barely twitched. Then she rose slowly, fetched a mirror from her bag, and held it up. She watched as the cum ran down her legs—over the nylon, down to her feet. She knelt, licked it up with her tongue, maintaining eye contact through the mirror. “Cleanliness is important,” she said. And then: “You may come again.”