Lights, Camera, Play - Episode 3

He pressed record. Camera light blinked red. She was already on her knees, looking straight into the lens like the lens owed her money. She wrapped her fingers around him, slow and deliberate, tracing the vein that ran the length of his cock with her thumb. Spit glistened on her lower lip. She leaned in and licked once, flat tongue from base to tip, leaving a wet stripe that caught the light. Then she took him deep, no warning, throat opening in one smooth motion until her nose brushed skin. She held it. Two heartbeats. Pulled back with a wet sound, strings of saliva stretching between her mouth and his cock. "Good girl," he said, quiet. The kind of praise that lands lower than words. She smiled around him and did it again. Faster this time. One hand worked the base in tight circles while her mouth focused on the head, tongue flicking that sensitive spot just beneath. Her other hand disappeared between her own thighs. Two fingers disappeared inside her. She moaned around his cock and the vibration traveled straight through him. He grabbed her hair, not gentle, and held her still while he fucked her mouth. Short, controlled thrusts. She took every inch without flinching, eyes watering, mascara starting to run. When he pulled out she gasped, lips swollen, chin wet. "Turn around," he told her. She did. Hands on the table, back arched, ass up. The camera caught everything—the curve of her spine, the slick shine between her legs, the way her cunt clenched around nothing. He lined up behind her and pushed in slow, letting the lens see every inch disappear inside her. She was tight. Hot. Gripping him like she meant to keep him there. He fucked her hard. The table shook. Each thrust knocked a soft sound out of her—half moan, half plea. He reached around and rubbed her clit in tight circles. She came fast, legs shaking, cunt pulsing around him. He didn't stop. Kept going until she was whimpering, overstimulated, trying to crawl forward on the table. He grabbed her hips and pulled her back onto him. "One more," he said. She gave it to him. Came again with a broken cry, forehead pressed to the wood, fingers gripping the edge so hard her knuckles went white. He followed right after, buried deep, pulsing inside her while the camera kept rolling.