The Tryst List - Episode 7

She starts on her knees. Silk robe open. His cock already hard in her palm. She strokes him slow, thumb tracing the ridge, watching every twitch. Her tongue slides underneath. Wet heat. He grunts low. Her lips part, taking him deep, spit gathering at the corner of her mouth. He grabs her hair, fucks her face gentle at first, then harder, throat working around him. She pulls back gasping, strings of saliva stretching from her bottom lip to his swollen head. He lifts her onto the bed. Knees bent. Legs spread wide. He leans in and licks her—long, flat strokes from her entrance to her clit. She arches, fingers tight in the sheets. Two fingers push inside. She clenches around them. He curls, finds the spot that makes her thighs shake. His mouth never leaves her. Tongue flicking. Sucking. The wet sounds fill the room. She comes once, breath caught. Then again, louder. He stands, strokes himself once, lines up, pushes in. Deep. No pause. She moans like she’s breaking open. He fucks her steady, hips rolling, palm flat on her stomach. She reaches down, rubs her clit in quick circles. They move like they’ve done this before. Like they know exactly what the other needs. He pulls out just before he comes, strokes fast, finishes across her stomach in thick ropes. She runs two fingers through it, brings them to her mouth, tastes him while he watches.