The Invitation Part 2 Episodes
The Invitation Part 2 - Episode 1
She lets her silk robe slide down her shoulders. It catches on the curve of her hips before it hits the floor. His eyes follow the fabric, then move back up to her breasts. He stays seated at the edge of the bed, fully dressed, watching her with a patience that makes her wetter than she expects. She steps between his knees. He reaches up and cups her left breast, thumb brushing slow circles around the nipple until it hardens. His other hand slides between her thighs, fingers parting her folds, finding her slick and ready. Two fingers slip inside without resistance. She exhales through her teeth. He curls them once, twice, then withdraws. Brings them to his mouth. Tastes her. She watches him do it. Her hands move to his belt. She works fast, unbuckling, unzipping, freeing him. He is already hard, thick against her palm. She strokes him once, base to tip, slow enough to make him twitch. Then she straddles him. No teasing this time. She lines him up and sinks down in one steady motion until he is buried to the hilt inside her. They both pause. Her hands grip his shoulders. His hands grip her waist. She rides him hard. The wet sound of her taking him fills the room. She grinds down on every thrust, angling her hips until his cock drags against the spot that makes her legs shake. He meets her halfway, driving up into her, his grip tightening with each slam of their bodies. Sweat beads along her spine. His shirt clings damp against his chest. Neither of them speaks. She comes first. A sharp cry rips out of her as her cunt clamps down around him, pulsing hard. He follows seconds later, burying himself deep, groaning against her collarbone as he empties inside her. She stays there, trembling, his cock still twitching inside her as they both catch their breath. The only sound left is the low hum of the city outside the window.
She lets her silk robe slide down her shoulders. It catches on the curve of her hips before it hits the floor. His eyes follow the fabric, then move back up to her breasts. He stays seated at the edge of the bed, fully dressed, watching her with a patience that makes her wetter than she expects. She steps between his knees. He reaches up and cups her left breast, thumb brushing slow circles around the nipple until it hardens. His other hand slides between her thighs, fingers parting her folds, finding her slick and ready. Two fingers slip inside without resistance. She exhales through her teeth. He curls them once, twice, then withdraws. Brings them to his mouth. Tastes her. She watches him do it. Her hands move to his belt. She works fast, unbuckling, unzipping, freeing him. He is already hard, thick against her palm. She strokes him once, base to tip, slow enough to make him twitch. Then she straddles him. No teasing this time. She lines him up and sinks down in one steady motion until he is buried to the hilt inside her. They both pause. Her hands grip his shoulders. His hands grip her waist. She rides him hard. The wet sound of her taking him fills the room. She grinds down on every thrust, angling her hips until his cock drags against the spot that makes her legs shake. He meets her halfway, driving up into her, his grip tightening with each slam of their bodies. Sweat beads along her spine. His shirt clings damp against his chest. Neither of them speaks. She comes first. A sharp cry rips out of her as her cunt clamps down around him, pulsing hard. He follows seconds later, burying himself deep, groaning against her collarbone as he empties inside her. She stays there, trembling, his cock still twitching inside her as they both catch their breath. The only sound left is the low hum of the city outside the window.