Playboy Morning Show - Episode 200

He presses her against the window. Glass cold on her bare back while the city lights flicker below. Her skirt pushes up around her hips. His hand finds the heat between her thighs. She’s already wet. Slick against his fingers. A sharp breath leaves her when he slides two inside. Her legs open wider. He curls his knuckles. Finds that spot that makes her knees shake. She bites down on her lip, tries not to moan. He watches her face. Every twitch. Every flicker of need. His thumb circles her clit in slow, steady strokes. She reaches for him. Finds him hard behind his zipper. Pulls him free. Wraps her hand around the length of him. He exhales through his teeth. She strokes once. Twice. He’s thick in her grip. Veins tight. Heat in her palm. She drops to her knees. Concrete rough against skin. Takes him into her mouth. Tongue flat. Lips tight. She sucks slow. Draws him deeper. His hand finds her hair. Not rough. Not yet. Just guiding. She works him until her jaw aches. Saliva slips down her chin. He pulls her up. Spins her. She braces against the glass. He pushes in. One smooth thrust. Fills her. Her breath fogs the pane. He fucks her like he’s waited all night. Hips snapping. Skin slapping. She meets every thrust. Moans louder. Her name sounds like a curse when he says it. He reaches around. Finds her clit again. Rubs hard. Fast. She comes with a cry. Clenches around him. He follows. Buries deep. Groans into her shoulder. They stay like that. Breathing. Slick with sweat. City watching.