Orgasm Obsession

The blonde wanted to come so badly it showed in every shift of her hips. I had nothing left in the kit, only my hands and my mouth and the hard fact between my legs. She sat on the edge of the couch in her little skirt, legs parted just enough to show she wasn't wearing anything under it. Red hair tumbled across her shoulder as she leaned in. I told her I could still make her shake. She smiled like she knew it already. She slid down, knees on the carpet, and took me between her lips without another word. Slow at first, the tip of her tongue tracing every ridge, then deeper, the wet heat of her mouth working me until my thighs tightened. I watched the way her lashes fluttered, how her free hand kept her skirt hiked so nothing was hidden. She moaned around the shaft like she was already close. When I pulled her up, she didn't hesitate. She straddled me on the low couch, sank down in one smooth motion, and started to ride. Her skirt bunched at her waist. Every time she dropped, her breath caught. Her tits pressed against the thin top, nipples hard. I held her waist and let her set the pace until the rhythm turned frantic, skin slapping, slick and tight around me. She came with a sharp cry, head thrown back, red hair swinging. I followed right after, pumping deep while her thighs trembled around my hips. The studio lights stayed on. The door was already locked. She stayed in my lap, still pulsing, still breathing hard.