Pleasure Parlour - Episode 4

The final room swallows the light. Her heel clicks once on marble, then stops. He waits on the velvet chaise, legs spread, shirt open at the collar. She takes two slow steps, lets her dress slip. It pools around her ankles and she stands bare, skin catching the soft gleam of a single lamp. She sinks to her knees between his thighs. His cock already strains against his trousers. She opens the button, eases the zipper, and he rises into her palm—thick, hot, heavy with pulse. She strokes once, twice, watching the head bead with clear fluid that shines in the half-dark. When she leans in, her tongue meets the ridge first, circles it, then glides down the vein that runs the length. He groans, low, the sound dragged from his chest. She takes him deeper. Her lips stretch, wet heat pulling him in until her nose brushes trimmed hair. She swallows around him once. He feels the soft give of her throat and his hand finds the back of her head, not pushing, just holding her there. Saliva slips from the corner of her mouth, runs down the shaft, drips onto his balls. She pulls back, gasps, strings of spit still connecting her lips to his cock. Then she dives again, faster, the rhythm slick and obscene. His fingers tighten in her hair. She hollows her cheeks, sucking hard, tongue pressing flat underneath. Every stroke of her mouth draws a grunt from him, hips twitching upward in small, involuntary jerks. The sound of her working him—wet, hungry, relentless—fills the quiet room. When she senses the pulse quicken against her tongue, she backs off just enough to speak, lips brushing his swollen head. “Come in my mouth.” The words are quiet, almost polite. She seals around him again and he breaks, cock throbbing hard as he spills. Thick ropes hit the back of her throat. She swallows each one, throat working visibly, not wasting a drop. Only when the last tremor fades does she ease off, tongue licking the last trace from the slit before she sits back on her heels, mouth wet, eyes dark and satisfied.