Pleasure Parlour - Episode 9

She stepped inside Pleasure Parlor the same way she always did, as if every surface had a pulse. The air smelled like warm skin and a sweet, sugary oil someone had rubbed too liberally across their thighs. Red light spilled from a lamp in the corner, catching the edges of sweat on the attendant’s bare shoulders. He looked up from the counter, eyes flicking over the leather of her dress before he spoke. “Room three,” he said, low, and she answered with a nod. She walked down the narrow hall, heels striking the wood. Each step sent a small jolt through her calves, up into the slick place between her legs. The door stood half-open. Inside, a man knelt on a low cushion, blindfold snug over his eyes, wrists bound behind his back with a silk cord that already showed the print of his pulse. His cock lay heavy against his thigh, thick and flushed at the tip. She closed the door behind her. The click of the latch was loud. She crossed to him without hurry, stopping just short of his knees. The heat from his body reached her before her hand did. She traced one finger along the underside of his shaft, slow, feeling the muscle jump under her touch. A bead of clear fluid gathered at the slit and she caught it on her fingertip, brought it to her mouth, tasting salt and heat. He breathed through his teeth. She smiled, though he couldn’t see it. She slipped out of the dress, letting the leather fall to the floor, then knelt opposite him so their knees nearly touched. Her breasts brushed his chest when she leaned in, nipples tight from the chilled air. She took his cock in both hands, one above the other, and stroked once from root to head, skin gliding over the slick she’d spread. His hips lifted, chasing the motion. She tightened her grip just enough to stop him. “Stay,” she said, voice calm. He obeyed. She released him only to spread her own thighs wider, settling lower until the head of his cock nudged the wet seam of her cunt. She rocked forward, letting him part her lips, coating him in her own slick. Each slow pass dragged his length along her clit, and she felt the small shocks of pleasure travel up her spine. When she was ready, she sank onto him in one smooth motion, taking every inch until her ass met his thighs. The stretch pulled a soft sound from her throat. She stayed there, full, letting her body adjust to the thick pulse inside her. Then she began to move—short, grinding rolls of her hips, keeping him deep while her clit rubbed against the base of him. The cords around his wrists creaked as he clenched his fists. She braced her palms on his shoulders, riding him with steady rhythm, cunt clenching around the intrusion each time she dropped down. Sweat gathered between her breasts and slid down her stomach. She leaned forward and licked a stripe up the side of his neck, tasting salt. Her teeth grazed his ear. “You feel that?” she whispered. He nodded once, jaw tight. She reached between them, fingers circling her own clit in tight, quick strokes while she kept fucking him. The tension inside her wound tighter, hotter. Her thighs trembled. She pressed her forehead to his, breathing the same air, and when the orgasm hit she didn’t slow down—only ground harder, cunt spasming around his cock as the pleasure rolled through her in long, shuddering waves. She stayed seated until the aftershocks faded, then lifted off him with a wet sound. His cock, still hard and glistening, twitched against his stomach. She untied the silk at his wrists, rubbed the faint marks with her thumbs, and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Next week,” she said, already reaching for her dress.