Truth about Sex - Episode 8

Her fingers trace the line of his cock, slow, certain. She knows the question before he asks. The one he never says out loud. When she wraps her lips around him she answers with the flat of her tongue, the wet heat of her mouth, the way she takes him deeper until her nose brushes his skin. He groans. She does not stop. Instead she reaches between her own thighs, parts herself with two fingers, lets him watch the way her cunt glistens while she sucks him. Her free hand stays busy stroking the length she cannot swallow. Precum beads on her tongue; she swallows it like proof. She pulls off only to climb astride him, sinks down in one long glide until he is buried to the hilt. Her hips roll. She rides him with purpose, grinding her clit against his pelvis on every downstroke. Every thrust is an answer. Every moan is data. She leans forward, breasts brushing his chest, and whispers the final lesson against his ear—her cunt pulsing, squeezing, telling him exactly what he needed to know.