Intimate Tales - Episode 6

She took him in her mouth again, slow this time, letting her tongue press flat against the underside before pulling back to watch the strand of spit stretch and break. His cock twitched against her lips. She smiled, eyes half-lidded, and did it again—deeper, wetter, her throat working around him like she wanted him to feel every inch go under. He groaned, one hand braced on the headboard, the other buried in her hair, not pushing, just holding on. She liked that. Liked knowing he was trying not to fuck her face even though every muscle in his thighs said he wanted to. She pulled off, lips shiny, and kissed the head like it was something precious. Then she climbed up his body, knees sliding on either side of his hips, and sank down without a word. He slid into her like he belonged there. The stretch pulled a low sound from her chest. She rolled her hips once, twice, finding the angle that made her breath catch. He sat up then, arms around her waist, mouth on her neck, teeth grazing skin. She rocked against him, slower now, the kind of rhythm that said they had all night and nowhere to be. Sweat gathered at the small of her back. He licked it away. She laughed, soft, then gasped when his hand slid between them and found her clit with two fingers, circling like he already knew what she needed. Her thighs started to shake. She grabbed his shoulders, nails digging in, and rode him harder. The headboard knocked the wall in time with her. He swore into her collarbone. She came with her forehead pressed to his, mouth open, no sound, just the tight flutter of her around him and the way her whole body went still for one long second before it broke. He followed right after, hips jerking up, spilling into her with a rough exhale that sounded like surrender. They stayed like that, breathing hard, skin stuck together, until she finally leaned back and looked at him with a lazy, fucked-out smile.