The second I left for my delayed business trip, Shilpa’s mind went straight to Ben. My so-called "friend" with those broad shoulders and a smirk that promised trouble. She texted him a single, risky photo—her in a lacy red bra, her tits spilling over the top, nipples hard against the fabric—with the caption: "Trip's lonely. Room 312."

Ben was at the hotel door in twenty minutes, his cock already straining against his jeans. Shilpa answered in just a silk robe, loosely tied. "Missed me?" she purred, letting it fall open. Her pussy was bare, shaved smooth, glistening with anticipation.

He didn't speak, just pushed her against the wall, his mouth crashing onto hers. His hands groped her tits, squeezing the soft flesh, thumbs rubbing her stiff nipples. She moaned, grinding her wet cunt against his thigh. "Fuck, Ben, I've wanted this," she gasped, pulling his shirt off. His chest was solid, a light dusting of hair leading down to the thick bulge in his pants.

On her knees, Shilpa yanked his zipper down. His dick sprang out—long, thick, and already leaking pre-cum. She licked the salty drop from the tip before taking him deep into her throat, gagging slightly as he hit the back. Her hand worked the base, her mouth a wet, tight sleeve. "Suck it, you slut," Ben grunted, tangling his fingers in her hair, fucking her face with slow, deep thrusts.

He dragged her to the bed, spreading her legs wide