Pleasure Parlour - Episode 6

The air smells like spiced wine and hot skin. She sits straddling his thigh, the dress she came in already a dark heap on the floor. Every slow roll of her hips drags the damp fabric of her panties over him, leaving a warm streak each time she leans forward. His palms cup her ass, fingers pressing into the soft give of flesh while he watches the way her stomach tightens with every grind. She reaches between them, pulls the lace aside, and sinks down onto him in one steady motion. Her breath catches but she keeps moving, working herself lower until she’s full. He stays still, letting her set it. When she starts to ride, the wet sound of her cunt sliding over him fills the room—sharp and obscene. Her breasts sway with each drop of her hips, nipples tight from the cool air. He thumbs one, rolls it, then sucks it into his mouth, teeth grazing just enough to make her clench around him. She fucks him harder after that. Sweat gathers at her lower back, runs down the crease of her spine. He grips the back of her neck, drags her into a kiss that’s more teeth than tongue. When she breaks it, panting, he slides a hand down to where they’re joined, circles her clit with two fingers slick from her own arousal. She jerks, thighs shaking, but doesn’t stop. She rides through it, mouth open, eyes half-lidded, until the tension snaps and she comes with a low, broken sound. He keeps stroking her through every twitch, holds her hips down so she feels every pulse of him inside her as he follows, spilling deep while her cunt milks him dry.