Playboy Morning Show - Episode 193

The room smelled like skin and the faint trace of his cologne. She knelt between his knees, her mouth full, working him with slow, wet strokes. His hand rested heavy on the back of her neck, fingers tightening whenever she took him deeper. She pulled off to breathe, spit connecting her lip to the flushed head, then leaned in again. He watched the way her throat moved when she swallowed him down, the way her lashes fluttered when he pushed a little harder. "Fuck, just like that," he muttered. She answered with a low sound that vibrated around him. Saliva dripped down her chin. He wiped it with his thumb, then slid the same thumb between her lips alongside his cock, stretching her wider. She moaned again. He felt it in his balls. The pace stayed steady, deliberate, his hips barely lifting to meet her. Her hands braced on his thighs, nails digging in when he gave a short, firm thrust. He let her set the rhythm until it wasn't enough, then guided her head with both hands, fucking her mouth in measured strokes that made her eyes water. She didn't pull away. She took it, breathing through her nose, tongue pressed flat, throat relaxing around him each time he pushed in. Sweat gathered at his hairline. Her knees ached on the hardwood. Neither of them cared. When his breathing changed, rougher, shorter, she looked up and held his gaze while she took him to the back of her throat and stayed there. His grip tightened. He came with a low curse, pulse after pulse, and she swallowed what she could, the rest slipping from the corner of her mouth. He pulled out slowly, watching the mess glisten on her lips. She licked them clean without being asked. He traced her jaw with two fingers, almost gentle now. "Good girl," he said, voice still thick. She smiled, small and satisfied, and rested her cheek against his thigh.