The Stash - Episode 7

The heavy wooden door swings open onto a low-lit lounge where warm amber light pools across dark leather chairs. A flat screen flickers against one wall while half-empty bottles catch the glow on a marble bar. Silk pillows are scattered on the floor in lazy disarray. A woman kneels between parted male legs, lips stretched wide around a thick cock that glistens with spit each time she pulls back. Her mascara is beginning to run. Her fingers dig into his thighs for balance as she works him deeper, throat fluttering around the head. He leans back, one hand resting on her hair, guiding her pace without hurry. Wet sounds fill the room every time she sinks down. She pauses just long enough to drag her tongue along the underside, then sinks again, gagging softly but steady. The man groans, the sound low and satisfied, hips lifting to meet her. She takes the cue, quickening her strokes until his shaft disappears entirely into her mouth again and again. Her breasts sway with the motion, nipples hard beneath the thin fabric of her dress. In the background the television hums, but the real show is here: her throat working, his hand tightening, the wet click of suction every time she swallows him whole.