Intimate Tales - Episode 2

She strips in the living room, slow and deliberate, each piece of clothing falling away until nothing remains between her skin and the open air. His eyes follow her every move. He’s fully dressed, a predator in the corner, still and silent as he watches her bare herself. The room holds the hush of anticipation. She knows this game. He chooses when to step forward. When he finally crosses the space between them, his hands land on her hips with deliberate pressure. He spins her, bends her forward over the low table, presses a palm between her shoulder blades to keep her there. Fabric rustles behind her. The metallic sound of his belt follows, then the unmistakable sound of his zipper. He drags the head of his cock along the curve of her ass, teasing the crease where her cheeks meet. She’s already wet. He slides two fingers through the slickness between her thighs, testing how ready she is, and groans once. No foreplay this time. He pushes into her in one long, deliberate thrust, filling her completely. Her breath catches. He sets a steady rhythm, hips snapping forward, the table scraping against the floor with every stroke. Her cheek presses to the cool surface, fingers gripping the edge. He reaches down, finds her clit with two fingers, rubs in tight circles until her thighs shake. The room fills with the wet sound of skin meeting skin and her muffled moans. He leans over her, mouth at her ear, voice low and rough. "Don’t come yet," he says. She clenches around him in response, and he swears under his breath. His pace quickens. The edge builds fast, impossible to hold back. When he finally presses down harder on her clit and fucks her deeper, she breaks—body shuddering, walls pulsing around him. He doesn’t stop. He rides her through it, chasing his own release until his rhythm stutters and he spills inside her with a sharp groan against her neck.