SexArt - Episode 8

She climbed onto him with her knees pressed to the sheets, thighs spread wide around his hips. He was already hard when she reached between them and guided him in. The head nudged her open, then slipped inside, warm and thick. She sank down slow, inch by inch, until she had all of him. Her breath caught. His hands rose to her waist, fingers digging in, steadying her as she began to move. She rode him in deliberate strokes—long, unhurried, dragging every inch of friction out of each rise and fall. Her cunt clenched around him every time she dropped. Sweat collected at the small of her back. She leaned forward, palms flat on his chest, and ground her hips in tight circles. The motion rubbed her clit against him just right. He thrust up to meet her. Short, sharp jolts that knocked the air from her lungs. She stayed on him, letting him fuck her from below, her breasts swaying with the rhythm. A flush spread across her throat and down her chest. He watched her face as it tightened—mouth parted, eyes half-lidded, lashes fluttering when he hit the spot that made her falter. She came with a sudden tremor, thighs quaking, her cunt pulsing in wet spasms around his cock. He held her through it, breathing hard, still moving in shallow strokes until she leaned down and kissed him, open-mouthed, hungry, riding the last aftershocks until they stilled.