Playboy Muses - Episode 7

She waits on the edge of the bed, thighs parted, the silk robe sliding down one shoulder. Light catches the swell of her breast, the hard point of her nipple, the faint sheen already between her legs. He steps in, cock half-hard, heavy against his thigh. No words. He grips her hips, pulls her closer. She reaches down, wraps cool fingers around him, strokes once, twice, feels him thicken in her palm. She brings him to her mouth, licks the bead at the tip, then takes him deep until her lips meet her fist. He groans low. She sucks hard, cheeks hollow, saliva running down her chin. He tugs her hair, guides her rhythm. When he pulls her up, her mouth glistens. He pushes her back, spreads her knees wider, slides two fingers inside—wet, hot, tight. Her hips buck. He curls them, finds that spot, works it until she’s panting. Then he replaces his fingers with his cock, thrusts in one long stroke. She gasps. He fucks her slow at first, then harder, the slap of skin loud in the quiet room. Sweat beads on his back. She drags her nails down it, legs locked around his waist. He flips her onto her stomach, yanks her hips up, drives back in. She presses her face into the sheets, moaning into the cotton. He reaches around, rubs her clit in tight circles. She comes first, cunt pulsing around him, thighs shaking. He follows seconds later, spilling deep, hips jerking. He stays inside her until the aftershocks fade, then pulls out. She rolls over, flushed, satisfied, a thin trail of come sliding down her inner thigh.