The flat felt empty with my girlfriend gone. Just me and Anni, our German history-major roommate. She wasn't classic pretty—her face was a little plain—but fuck, her body got me. Those curves, the swell of her hips, the way her tits pressed against her sweater. Her blue eyes were sharp, her blonde hair piled messily.

We shared a quiet pasta dinner. After, she smiled. “I have a paper on medieval treaties. Discuss it with me? In the living room?”

“Sure,” I said, my pulse already ticking up.

We sat on the couch, textbooks open. Her thigh brushed mine. She talked about alliances, her voice low. I watched her lips. Her finger traced a map on a page, then, slowly, her hand rested on my knee.

“Some treaties,” she murmured, her German accent thickening, “were sealed with more than ink.”

The air got heavy. My cock stirred in my jeans. Her blue eyes held mine, no longer scholarly. She leaned in. “Your girlfriend… she does not appreciate debate like you do.”

Her hand slid up my thigh, palming the growing bulge there. I groaned. “Anni…”

“Shh. This is just… historical research.” Her other hand grabbed the back of my neck, pulling me into a hungry kiss. Her tongue plunged into my mouth, tasting of wine. My hands found her waist, squeezing the soft flesh.

She broke the kiss, breathing hard. “I want to feel your skin.” She yanked my shirt off, then her own sweater and bra. Her tits were full, pale, with pink nipples already hard. I took one in