A few golden leaves pirouetted in the crisp Berlin air as Myra and Hans emerged from the shadow of the Zoologisher Garten U-Bahn station. The city's pulse thrummed around them, a mélange of distant sirens, chattering tourists, and the rhythmic clatter of street musicians. Hans offered a gentle smile as he took her hand, the warmth of his touch seeping through her gloves. Their eyes met, Myra just thinking about the events of last week with the African men, Kofi and Ade. Their marriage, a tapestry of love and secrets, had been subtly altered by the threads of desire she had unraveled in the sun-soaked embrace of strangers.

Their hotel suite was an oasis of quietude in the heart of the bustling metropolis, with a view that whispered the secrets of Berlin's storied past. The heavy curtains, drawn against the early evening light, cast a sultry glow over the room. Hans, oblivious to the tumultuous thoughts churning within his wife's mind, suggested they freshen up before exploring the city's vibrant nightlife. Myra nodded, her throat tight with anticipation.

As she stood before the mirror, the reflection of her naked body was a canvas of memories from the alley. Her skin still remembered the feel of Kofi's powerful grip, the taste of Ade's kiss lingering faintly on her lips. The scent of their musky cologne mingled with the ocean breeze, a potent reminder of her transgressions. Hans' eyes, when they met in the reflection, searched hers for the usual spark, not knowing that she was hiding a tempest beneath the calm.

The warm water of the shower cascading down her body could not wash away the vivid images of Ade's thick, black cock stretching her to new limits of pleasure. Each droplet seemed to trace the path of his touch, leaving a trail of tingling sensation that made her bite her lip to stifle a moan. The water caressed her skin, her hands unconsciously tracing the contours of her breasts, her fingertips grazing the erect peaks of her nipples, as if guided by the memory of Ade's mouth.

Her thoughts grew more brazen as the water sluiced over her, her hand sliding down to the juncture of her thighs. The slickness between her legs was a testament to her arousal, a silent confession to the hotel room's walls. Myra's fingers danced over her clit, the echoes of Ade's deep, resonant voice in her ears as she imagined his cock, so close to filling her completely, before their furtive encounter was so abruptly interrupted by the old Italian lady. The memory of his retreat made her clench with frustration, her hand moving faster as she tried to recreate the sensation of his shaft pushing against the walls of her pussy.

The sound of the shower door sliding open jolted Myra from her reverie, Hans' reflection joining hers in the foggy mirror. He stepped in behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, his cock pressing against her ass. The sudden intimacy sent a jolt of excitement through her. Even though Ade hadn't fully claimed her, the mere memory of his size made Hans feel small in comparison. Yet, it was Hans' tenderness, his gentle kisses along her neck, that coaxed a small sigh of pleasure from her lips. The stark contrast between the two men was a delicious torment, one that had her panting as she leaned back into his embrace.

His soapy hands slipped over her breasts, kneading them with a familiar rhythm that usually brought her to the brink of ecstasy. But tonight, Myra found herself craving the primal force of Ade's touch. Hans' fingers trailed down her stomach, and she could almost feel the ghost of Ade's cock, the way it had stretched her open, so close to the hilt, before they had been discovered. Her clit throbbed with the memory, and she bit her bottom lip, her hand moving to cover Hans' as it ventured between her legs.

Their bodies intertwined under the shower's embrace, but Myra's thoughts remained in the alley, with Ade's unyielding gaze and the promise of his fullness. Hans' cock, though lovingly attentive, was a stark reminder of the unbridled passion she had felt with the African men. As Hans whispered sweet nothings in her ear, she could only think of Ade's deep, accented voice, his words a siren's song of raw desire. Each caress from Hans brought a silent yearning for the uncharted depths of pleasure Ade had offered.

Her breath hitched as Hans' hand slipped away, leaving her sex aching for more. The time had come to shatter the serenity of their marriage with the truth of her carnality. She turned to face him, the water sluicing off her breasts, her eyes dark with a newfound determination. "Hans," she began, her voice a shaky whisper, "I need to tell you something."

Hans, his eyes clouded with passion, paused, his hand hovering above her slick skin. "What is it, my love?"

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she met his gaze. "Last week, when I was at the beach resort, I..." The words caught in her throat, the weight of her secret pressing against her chest. She swallowed hard, the warm water beating against her back. "I had an... an encounter."

Hans' eyes searched hers, a flicker of concern piercing his lustful haze. "What do you mean, 'an encounter'?" His voice was soft, tentative, as if he knew that the delicate balance of their relationship was about to shift.

Myra took a deep breath, her heart racing with a mix of fear and exhilaration. "Remember the necklace?" she began, her eyes dropping to the soap-covered tiles at their feet. "The one we bought from the Africans, Ade and Kofi?" Hans nodded slowly, his grip on her tightening slightly. "They...they offered us a discount if I...if I kissed them."

The silence in the shower was palpable, the only sound the steady patter of water droplets on their skin. Hans' eyes searched hers, a myriad of emotions playing across his features. "Is that all that happened?" he asked, his voice strained.

Myra's cheeks flushed a deep red, the heat of the water not enough to mask her shame. She took a step back, the cool air prickling her skin. "No," she murmured, her eyes never leaving his. "There was more."

Hans' gaze held hers, his expression unreadable. "Tell me," he said, his voice low and measured.

Myra's eyes searched his, looking for any sign of anger or betrayal, but instead, she found something else entirely—curiosity, perhaps even a flicker of desire. She took another deep breath and continued. "I saw them again, the next day. They invited me to join them for a walk and we went into an alley, and...and one thing led to another." Her voice trailed off, the steam from the shower wrapping around them like a veil of secrets. "We kissed, Hans, all three of us. And then...we went further."

Her words hung in the air, the confession thick with the scent of their shared soap. Hans' eyes widened slightly, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. "Further?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Myra nodded, her eyes never leaving his. The water continued to cascade around them, a stark contrast to the stillness in the room. She felt as though she were standing before him naked in more than just body. "We kissed," she murmured, her voice thick with unshed emotion. "Ade...he was so gentle. His tongue danced with mine in a way that was both new and exciting." Her hand unconsciously drifted to her mouth, as if to capture the lingering taste of Ade's kiss. "And Kofi, he was...more aggressive."

Hans' cock, which had begun to wilt under the weight of his wife's revelation, began to stir again. He couldn't help but feel a strange, perverse thrill at the thought of his beautiful wife, with her soft, sun-kissed skin and almond-shaped eyes, being taken by these two powerful men. "And then?" he prompted, his voice thick.

Myra's breath caught in her throat as she recounted the tale, her eyes glazed with the heat of her memories. "They both kissed me, their hands roaming over my body, untying my bikini top, pushing down my bottoms." She paused, the water stinging her eyes like tears. "Kofi's cock was so thick, so much bigger than yours," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "And Ade, his was longer, and he knew exactly how to use it."

Her hand slid down her stomach, hovering just above her mound, the ache in her pussy growing with each word. "Ade took me first," she confessed, her eyes locking onto Hans' in the steamy mirror. "He pushed me against the alley wall, his cock pressing against my stomach. And then...he shoved it in me." Her voice was a hoarse whisper, the memory of that moment etched in every line of her body. "So deep, so hard," she continued, her hand moving to cup herself, fingers playing with the folds of her sex. "I had never felt anything like it, Hans. He was so...so...filling."

Hans' breath hitched, his cock now fully erect again, standing tall and proud between them. The water pummeled their bodies, the steam thickening as the temperature in the room grew hotter. "And then?" he managed to ask, his voice tight with desire and a hint of something else.

Myra's eyes grew distant as she recounted the rest of the story. "An old lady, she saw us," she said, her voice trembling. "She came to us, and told us to stop. But instead of calling for help or shaming us, she pointed us to a hidden place. A cave, she called it the 'Grotto of Passion'. She said it was a place for lovers to seek refuge, where the walls whispered the secrets of the universe."

Hans' heart raced as he listened, his cock pulsing with each of Myra's words. The thought of his wife with these other men should have brought anger, but instead, he felt something else, something dark and primal, something that made his blood boil with a strange kind of excitement. "The cave," he murmured, his hand reaching for the shampoo. "What happened there?"

Myra stepped closer to him, the water cascading down their bodies mingling as one. "I told Ade and Kofi to meet me there, another day," she said, her voice barely louder than the hiss of the shower. "To continue what we had started."

Hans' eyes searched hers, a storm of emotions brewing. He reached for the shampoo, his hand shaking slightly. "And did you?" he asked, his voice tight.

Myra's hand stilled on her sex, the anticipation of her confession thick in the air. "No," she whispered, her eyes never leaving his. "But Hans, that day will not come if you don't want me to see them ever again."

Hans took a step back, the water now cold on his skin. He lathered his hair, the scent of sandalwood filling the small space as he tried to process her words. "Do you want to see them again?" His voice was tight, his emotions a tangled web of jealousy, excitement, and confusion.

Myra stepped closer, her body pressing against his, the water beating a staccato rhythm against their intertwined limbs. "Hans," she murmured, her voice thick with need, "I want us to explore this together. To push the boundaries of our love, to find new heights of pleasure." Her hand reached for his cock, her grip firm and sure, stroking him from base to tip.

Hans' eyes searched hers, a maelstrom of emotions playing across his features. The shampoo bottle fell forgotten to the tiles, the soap slipping from his hand as he grabbed her wrist, halting her movement. "What are you suggesting?" he breathed, his voice ragged with lust and fear.

Myra's hand stilled on his cock, the water's caress the only movement between them. "I want us to go to the cave," she whispered, her eyes dark with desire. "When we go back home."

The words hung in the steamy air, a daring suggestion that sent a thrill through Hans' body. His mind raced, conjuring images of his wife's sweet body writhing in pleasure with those two men in the dim light of a hidden cavern. He felt a strange mix of jealousy and excitement, the kind that comes from the edge of a precipice, the thrill of the unknown, the allure of the forbidden. "Together?" he asked, his voice hoarse with lust.

Myra nodded, her eyes never leaving his, her hand still wrapped around his cock. "Yes, Hans," she said, her voice a seductive purr. "I want you to share this with me. I want you to see me, to watch me, to be a part of it all."

The idea grew in Hans' mind, a seed planted in the fertile soil of his desire. He could feel the tension in his body, the tightness in his chest, the pulsing need in his groin. "What if we can't come back from this?" he asked, his voice trembling.

Myra leaned into him, her breasts pressing against his chest, her breath hot against his skin. "Then we won't," she whispered. "We'll let the passion consume us, let it show us who we truly are." Her hand began to move again, stroking him with an insistent rhythm that mirrored the beat of his racing heart.

Their kiss was a silent agreement, a pact sealed with tongues and teeth. Hans felt his resolve crumble like the Berlin Wall had decades before, the thrill of the taboo breaking through the barriers of his conventional marriage. As the water washed away the soap, it also washed away the last of his hesitation.

Myra stepped out of the shower first, the droplets on her skin glistening like diamonds in the soft light of the suite. She wrapped herself in a plush towel, her body shivering not from the cold but from the anticipation of what was to come. Hans followed, his eyes never leaving her as he toweled himself off, his cock standing at attention, a silent declaration of his newfound excitement.

Myra told Hans that there was another story that she wanted to tell him.

Her story began as they lay in bed, the crisp hotel sheets a stark contrast to the sticky, sandy beach of her past. "It was my first year in university," she said, her voice a soft caress in the quiet room. "I was young, only 18 years old, naive, and eager for adventure." Myra had met the football player, a towering figure named Chukwuemeka, at a school event. His smile was as bright as the Manila sun, and his eyes, a deep, rich brown, promised a world of experiences she had only dreamed of in her most secretive fantasies.

He had approached her with the confidence of a man who knew what he wanted and was used to getting it. His accent was a symphony of unexplored lands, a siren's call that drew her in like a moth to a flame. They had talked for hours, their words a dance of curiosity and flirtation. It was a dance that led them to a quiet spot under the shade of a banyan tree, where he had kissed her with a hunger that made her knees tremble.

Hans listened intently, his heart pounding in his chest, as Myra described the way Chukwuemeka had touched her, his hands like the warm embrace of the Manila sun. She spoke of their stolen moments together, the secret glances that grew more heated with each passing day, the touches that grew bolder, more possessive. Her voice was a sultry melody, weaving a tale that had Hans' cock thickening with every note.

Myra had been a young, innocent flower then, her petals just beginning to unfurl in the heat of the world. Chukwuemeka had been the first to taste her sweet nectar, his dark skin a stark contrast to her sun-kissed golden hue. He had introduced her to the art of love, his broad hands guiding her to the precipice of pleasure she had never known existed. Each touch, each kiss, had been a revelation, a promise of passion that had made her heart race and her skin tingle.

In the dim light of their Berlin hotel room, Myra's voice grew softer, more intimate, as she recounted the night Chukwuemeka had taken her to a secluded part of the university. The air was thick with the scent of blooming jasmine, the moon a silver sliver in the velvet sky. His hands had roamed her body with a possessive hunger, each caress a silent declaration of his desire. She had been a virgin, her body untouched by the hands of any man, but she had welcomed his advances, her own curiosity and burgeoning lust a potent aphrodisiac.

Her words painted a picture of his strong, muscular form, his skin slick with sweat from the heat of the night and the exertion of passion. His cock had been a revelation, a thick, powerful beacon of desire that she had eagerly accepted into her quivering, inexperienced body. Hans' hand tightened on hers as she described the moment of penetration, the way Chukwuemeka had pushed into her, the stretch and burn that had been both terrifying and exhilarating.

Myra's eyes shone with the remembered pleasure of her first time, her cheeks flushed with the heat of the memory. She had been so wet, so ready, that she had taken him without a hitch, her moans of pain quickly morphing into gasps of pleasure. His strokes had been deep and sure, his body moving with the same rhythmic grace that had made him a star on the football field. She had felt so alive, so consumed by the sensation of his cock filling her that she had thought she would burst.

Hans felt a strange mix of emotions as he listened to his wife's confession, his cock pulsing with each detail she shared. He had always known that Myra had been with other men before him, but hearing about her first love affair, her first taste of the sexual world, was both exhilarating and humbling. It was as if she was revealing a part of herself that had been hidden away, a part that was now open to him in a way it never had been before.

As Myra spoke of her and Chukwuemeka's passionate encounters, Hans found his own imagination running wild. He pictured her young body, her breasts firm and unblemished, her skin glowing with the excitement of discovery. The thought of her, so innocent and eager, at the mercy of the burly Nigerian football player's skilled touch, had him stroking himself beneath the covers, his cock thickening with every word. He could feel the heat of her desire, the ache of her unexplored pussy, the way her walls clenched around the first cock that had ever dared to breach her.

Her voice grew softer, more urgent, as she recounted the night that Chukwuemeka had introduced her to the darker side of passion. They had stolen away to his apartment, the walls pulsing with the bass of a distant party. He had led her to his bedroom, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat. She had lain on her back, her legs trembling with anticipation as he had climbed over her, his muscular body a testament to the strength and power that had made him a star on the field. He had whispered sweet nothings into her ear in his deep, accented voice, his breath hot against her skin as his cock nudged her entrance.

But one night, it was not to be about just the two of them. Chukwuemeka had revealed his true intentions, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "My friends," he had said, gesturing to the shadows. "They want to meet the woman who has captured my heart."

Hans' hand stilled on his cock, his eyes widening as he pictured the scene. The room grew hotter, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat. Myra's breath grew quicker as she described the moment the door opened, revealing five more men, all as powerful and dark as Chukwuemeka. They had stepped into the room, their eyes ravenous as they took in her naked form. Her heart had hammered in her chest, a mix of fear and excitement coursing through her veins.

"They were his teammates," she whispered, her eyes glazed with the memory. "All of them from different African countries, all of them so...so hungry for me." Hans could feel the heat of her gaze, the pulse of her desire beating through their entwined fingers. "Chukwuemeka told me that they knew about us, that they had been watching, and that they wanted a taste."

Her words sent a thrill of excitement and trepidation through him. He could feel the blood rushing to his cock, his body responding to the raw, primal nature of the situation she was describing. "What did you do?" he asked, his voice thick with lust.

Myra's eyes searched his, a silent question lingering in their depths. "I let them," she whispered. "I let all of them have me."

The revelation hung in the air, a heady mix of lust and shock. Hans felt his cock throb in response, his mind racing with images of his young, untouched wife being taken by those powerful, black men. He had never considered himself a voyeur, but the thought of watching her, her body stretched and filled by them, had his heart racing and his blood pumping with a newfound fervor.

Myra's hand reached for his, her touch tentative. "I didn't know what to do, Hans," she whispered, her eyes searching his for understanding. "But something inside of me...it just took over." Her voice grew stronger, her breath hitching with each word. "I was so wet, so ready for them. And when they touched me, I just..."

Her confession grew more graphic, the air in the room charged with the electricity of her memories. Hans could see the scene unfolding in his mind's eye, his cock growing harder with each detail she shared. Myra had been a feast for those men, her young, unblemished body offered up to their experienced hunger. She described the way they had taken turns, their cocks thick and unyielding, each one bringing her to new heights of pleasure. The sound of their grunts and moans had been a symphony of desire, echoing through the room like a call to the wild.

The first had been a Senegalese giant named Mbaye, his cock a work of art, as dark and majestic as the continent that had spawned him. He had taken her with a ferocity that had left her breathless, his powerful strokes setting her body alight. She had screamed his name as she came, her walls clenching around his shaft, her body trembling with the force of her release. Hans felt a strange thrill at the thought of his wife's sweet voice crying out in ecstasy, her cries of pleasure mingling with the foreign names of her lovers.

The second had been a nimble Ivorian named Yao, his movements swift and precise like the panther that shared his name. His tongue had danced across her body, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He had brought her to climax with a mastery that had left her panting, begging for more, her legs trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. Hans' cock grew even harder as he imagined Myra's moans of pleasure, her body arching off the bed as Yao had brought her to the brink over and over again, his tongue a weapon of passion.

The third had been a Kenyan Adonis named Mwangi. His touch had been gentle, almost tender, a stark contrast to the brutal force of the first two. He had coaxed her orgasms with the patience of a sculptor, his hands shaping her body into a masterpiece of pleasure. Hans felt his own cock pulse with envy as he listened to her whispered words, picturing Mwangi's long, lean fingers teasing and exploring her sensitive spots, bringing her to a crescendo of sensation.

The fourth, a Ghanaian beast named Kofi, had taken her with a brutality that had surprised even her. His cock had been the largest, a thick, unyielding rod that had stretched her to her limits. She had screamed into the pillow, the pain and pleasure melding into one exquisite sensation. Hans' hand tightened around his own cock, his breathing ragged as he imagined Kofi's powerful body slamming into hers, the bed shaking with the force of their coupling.

The fifth, a stoic Egyptian named Amr, had brought with him an ancient wisdom, his eyes dark with secrets as he had whispered incantations in her ear, his hands coaxing her to new heights of ecstasy. His touch had been like a gentle breeze, a whisper of sensation that had made her body bloom like the Nile. Hans felt his own body respond to the thought of Myra's cries, her body writhing under the dark-skinned man's skilled ministrations.

As Myra recounted her experiences with each player, Hans found himself lost in a whirlwind of emotions—jealousy, arousal, fascination. He had never felt so alive, so connected to her, even as she laid bare the most intimate details of her past. The room grew hotter, the scent of their arousal mingling with the steam from the shower. His hand slid down her body, tracing the path that those other men had taken, the path that had led her to him.

Her skin was a canvas of goosebumps as she spoke of the nights Chukwuemeka had shared her with his teammates. Hans felt a strange sense of possession, a desire to claim her anew, to remind her of the love and passion that they had built together. He kissed her neck, his teeth grazing her sensitive skin as his hand found her pussy, already slick with anticipation. His fingers slipped inside her, and she gasped, her body tightening around him.

"Tell me more," he urged, his voice thick with lust. Myra's eyes fluttered closed, a soft moan escaping her lips as Hans began to move his fingers in time with the rhythm of her story. She recounted the nights of endless pleasure, her body a vessel for their desire. The way Chukwuemeka had looked at her, his eyes filled with pride as he watched his friends take her, one by one. The way she had felt, so powerful and desired, her body responding to each new touch, each new cock that claimed her.

Her words grew more frenzied, her breath coming in short gasps as she described the night she had been passed around like a prize among them. The feel of their hands, their tongues, their cocks, all different, all claiming her in their own way. Hans' own touch grew more urgent, his thumb circling her clit as his fingers plunged deep inside her. She could feel her orgasm building, a crescendo of sensation that threatened to consume her.

"And Hans," she whispered, her voice hoarse with desire, "it was Chukwuemeka who shared me the most. He liked to watch his friends take me, to see the pleasure in their eyes as they felt what was his." Her eyes searched his, looking for his reaction. Hans felt a strange mix of anger and arousal, his hand moving faster, his cock begging for release. "They were like animals," she continued, her voice a tremulous pant, "but I was the one who wanted it, who craved it."

Her words painted a vivid picture in his mind—Myra, spread out on a bed, her body a playground for those powerful, dark-skinned men. He could almost hear the sounds of their passion, the slap of skin on skin, the grunts and gasps of pleasure. It was a vision that both repulsed and fascinated him, a dark secret that had been festering within her, now laid bare for his consumption.

Myra felt the heat of Hans' hand as it moved between her legs, his fingers delving into her wetness. The sensation was exquisite, a stark contrast to the coldness of the tile beneath her feet. She could feel his cock pressing against her back, the pulse of his desire echoing through her body. His touch grew more urgent, his breath hot and ragged against her neck. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked, his voice tight with lust.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and she leaned back into him, her body a symphony of sensation. "No," she murmured, her voice a sultry whisper. "I want you to know everything." Her words were like a key, unlocking a chamber of secrets that had been buried deep within her soul. She felt Hans' cock pulse against her, his desire for her a palpable force that thrummed through the air.

As the water continued to cascade around them, Hans could feel the tension in her body, the echoes of those passionate encounters resonating through her every movement. He slid his other hand around to her front, cupping her breast, feeling the weight of her desire in his palm. Myra's breath hitched, and she pushed back against him, her pussy grinding against his hardness. "Tell me more," he whispered into her ear, his teeth grazing the lobe, sending shivers down her spine.

Myra's voice grew softer, the words spilling from her like a secret shared in a sacred rite. "One night, Chukwuemeka had a party," she began, her eyes closing as if to better remember. "All his football friends were there, and they were all so...so intense. They watched me, Hans, with such hunger." Her hand slipped from his cock to his chest, her nails lightly scoring his skin. "They took me into a back room, one by one, and...and..." Her voice trailed off as a tremor passed through her body.

Hans felt his cock throb, his mind racing with images of his young wife, her body offered up to those dark, muscular men. "And what did they do to you?" he breathed, his voice thick with desire.

Myra's eyes grew hazy with memory, her voice a sultry whisper. "They took turns," she said, her hips rolling back against him, "each one bigger, harder than the last. They filled me so completely, I could feel them in every part of me." She paused, her breath hitching as Hans' thumb began to circle her clit, his other hand squeezing her breast. "Their cocks were like nothing I had ever felt before, so thick and long, stretching me in ways I never knew were possible."

Her hand slid down to cover his, her fingers guiding him, showing him the rhythm that had once driven her wild. "And Hans," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the hiss of the water, "that was the first time I was spitroasted."

The words hung in the steam-filled air, a confession that sent a shiver of excitement down Hans' spine. He had heard of such things, of course, in whispers and hushed tones, but to hear it from Myra's lips, to know that she had experienced it, that her body had been used in such a way, was almost too much to bear. He could feel his cock swelling even further, the blood pounding in his ears as he tried to imagine the scene she was describing.

"Spitroasted?" he echoed, his voice hoarse with lust. "What...what does that mean?"

Myra's eyes searched his, a mix of vulnerability and challenge. "It means," she began, her voice low and seductive, "that two of them were inside me at the same time." She paused, her breath coming in short gasps as the memory overwhelmed her. "One in my mouth, one in my pussy."

The revelation hit Hans like a bolt of lightning, his hand stuttering against her clit. He had never imagined his sweet, innocent wife in such a depraved position, and yet, the very thought of it had him on the edge of his own climax. "My God, in your tight Asian pussy," he breathed, his voice shaking.

Myra nodded, her eyes never leaving his in the mirror. "Yes," she murmured, her hand reaching back to stroke his cock. "It was...overwhelming. They were so big, so much bigger than you, Hans. And the way they used me, the way they filled me..." Her voice trailed off, lost in the haze of memory.

Hans' cock throbbed in her hand, the image of his wife, her sweet, delicate body being claimed by those two massive men, pushing him closer to the edge. "Tell me more," he urged, his voice a desperate plea.

Myra leaned into him, her breath hot against his ear. "They held me down," she whispered, her eyes closed as if she were there again, in that dimly lit room with the smell of sweat and desire heavy in the air. "One of them, Kofi, he was so big, his cock thick like a tree trunk. He pushed it into my mouth, and I could barely fit it all in." Her hand tightened around his shaft, mimicking the feel of Kofi's cock, her other hand sliding down to her own sex, her fingers slipping easily into her sopping wet pussy. "The other, Mbaye, he was even bigger than Chukwuemeka. He pushed into me, so deep, so hard, I thought I would split in two."

Her voice was a soft purr, the sound of her fingers sliding in and out of her own pussy mingling with the water's patter. "I was so full, Hans," she continued, her eyes finding his in the mirror. "Their cocks stretched me, filled me in a way I never knew was possible. I could feel every inch of them, and it was...it was exquisite."

Her hand grew more insistent on his shaft, her hips rolling back to grind against him. Hans' eyes widened as he watched her in the mirror, his mind reeling with the image of his wife, her mouth and pussy stuffed with those black cocks, her body writhing with pleasure. "And when they came," she whispered, her voice hoarse with the memory, "their cum filled me. It was like nothing I had ever felt before, so hot, so...powerful."

Her confession sent a shiver down his spine, a mix of shock and arousal that made his cock pulse even more. He could feel her body responding to the memory, her pussy clenching around her own fingers, her nipples tight and erect. Hans knew he couldn't hold back much longer, the sight of his beautiful wife lost in the recollection of her depraved adventure pushing him closer to the edge. "And did you...did you like it?" he managed to ask, his voice strained.

Myra's eyes grew dark with lust as she met his gaze in the mirror. "More than I ever thought possible," she murmured, her voice a sultry whisper. "It was like nothing I had ever experienced before. The feeling of being so completely filled, so utterly claimed by them." She took a deep, shaky breath, her hand moving faster on her clit. "Their cum, mixing in my mouth, running down my throat, filling my pussy...it was like a declaration of ownership, a brand of pure, primal desire."

The revelation of her being spitroasted had ignited something deep within Hans, a fierce need to possess her fully. He watched her in the mirror, her body a canvas of desire as she recounted her encounter. Her breasts, flushed and heavy with need, rose and fell with each rapid breath. Her hand, slick with their shared passion, moved with a fervor that had him on the edge of his own release. The thought of those two massive black cocks filling her, claiming her in a way he never could, was both terrifying and exhilarating.

Myra's eyes grew glassy as she reached the climax of her story, her body trembling with the echoes of past pleasure. "After that night," she whispered, her voice a tremulous sigh, "I never saw Chukwuemeka or his friends again." The words hung in the steamy air, a poignant reminder that their time together had been but a fleeting moment of passionate abandon. Hans felt a strange mix of relief and loss at her confession. Relief that he had her all to himself once more, yet a profound sense of loss for the woman she had been in those moments, the woman who had been claimed by those powerful men.

He took a step back, the water from the showerhead beating down on his chest like the pounding of his heart. "Why did you tell me?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion. Myra turned to face him, her eyes filled with a fierce determination. "Because I wanted you to know," she said, her voice strong and clear, "every part of me. And because I want to explore those desires with you."

The confession hung in the air, the steam from the shower wrapping around them like a living, breathing entity. Hans felt a tumult of emotions—betrayal, anger, lust—but above all, an intense, all-consuming need to claim his wife once more. To show her that she was his, to make her forget the touch of those other men. He stepped closer, his body pressing against hers, his cock, now painfully erect, nestling between her wet thighs. "You're mine," he murmured, his voice low and possessive.

Myra's eyes searched his, the heat of the shower doing nothing to dampen the fire that burned within her. "Always," she whispered, her hand reaching up to cup his cheek. "But Hans, I want more."

Her words sent a jolt of excitement through him, a thrill of the unknown, the unexplored. He knew what she was asking for, and the very thought of it was terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure. "More?" he echoed, his voice thick with lust.

Myra nodded, her eyes never leaving his. "I want to feel them again," she whispered, "but with you this time."

Her words sent a shiver down Hans' spine, a thrilling mix of excitement and trepidation. The thought of sharing his wife with those men was a heady cocktail of emotions, a dark fantasy that he had never allowed himself to indulge. Yet here she was, laying it all before him, begging for more.

Hans took a deep, shaky breath, trying to process the magnitude of her request. His mind raced with the images she had painted, her body stretched and filled by those other men. Yet, in this moment, she was his, and the possessive urge to claim her fully was overwhelming. "If we do this," he began, his voice gruff, "it will change everything between us."

Myra nodded, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I know," she murmured. "But Hans, I love you so much, and I don't want to lose you." She placed her hand over his heart, feeling the rapid beat beneath her palm. "I want us to grow together, to explore these desires as one." Her voice grew softer, more earnest. "I need you to trust me, to trust us."

Hans felt the weight of her words, his heart heavy with the love that had bound them together. He knew that love was not always easy, but he had never anticipated a test like this. Yet, as he looked into her eyes, he saw the truth of her love, the depth of her desire to share herself with him, fully and completely. He took a deep breath and nodded, his decision made. "I trust you, Myra," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I trust us."

The words hung in the steamy air, a declaration of faith that seemed to resonate in every part of the room. Myra's eyes filled with tears of relief and gratitude, her hand still cupped against his chest. "Thank you," she murmured, leaning into him, her breasts pressing against his wet skin. Their bodies melded together, the warm water cascading around them like a veil of forgiveness.

Hans' arms tightened around her, his hands sliding down to cup her ass, pulling her closer. "I'll go with you," he whispered into her ear, the heat of his breath sending shivers down her spine. "To the cave."

Myra's heart leaped at his words, a thrill of excitement mingling with the warmth of his embrace. She leaned back, looking up at him, her eyes wide with hope. "You mean it?"

"Yes, honey," Hans said, his voice steady and sure. "We're in this together. And if this is what you need, what we need, then we'll explore it." His thumb brushed over her lower lip, catching the water droplets that clung there. "Now, let's get out of here and explore Berlin."