SexArt - Episode 8

She had him down. Knees on either side of his ribs, spine curved back, palms planted on the sheets. Her breath stuttered. His cock pushed up through the tight ring of her cunt, thick and wet, splitting her on the downstroke. The angle hit that sharp spot inside her, again and again, until her thighs shook. He watched her take him. Watched the way her folds dragged up the shaft, slick and swollen, before she dropped again, cunt swallowing every inch until her clit met skin and her eyes went half-shut. The room was quiet except for breath and the soft slap of flesh. She rode him slow, then faster, finding the rhythm that made her whimper through her teeth. When she leaned back, her hands on his thighs, the view changed. His cock pulled almost free, then pushed back into her, gleaming with her slick. He reached up, thumb sliding over her clit, steady circles that made her hips stutter. Her breasts lifted with every breath. Sweat cooled between her shoulder blades. She stayed there, riding, hips rolling in small tight circles until she came, clenching around him hard enough to make him groan. She kept moving through it, dragging the orgasm out, breath breaking into soft, ragged sounds. He grabbed her hips, held her down, and thrust up once, twice, before he spilled inside her, pulse after pulse, heat spreading deep. She stayed seated, trembling, his cock still twitching in the mess. Neither of them spoke. Just the sound of breathing, heavy and slow, filling the quiet.