Backstage with Jo

I was thrilled about my first shoot after the break, but nothing went right. The power stayed out and by ten that night we had to push the session with Jo to another day. Turned out for the best. I suddenly had an entire day with her all to myself. Morning light slipped through the blinds and found us already tangled. Jo’s blonde hair spilled across the pillow while her tongue traced slow circles around my nipple. I tasted salt on her skin and heard the soft catch in her breath each time my fingers slid lower. She opened for me, hips rocking, and I took my time—long strokes, teasing circles, gentle pressure—until her thighs trembled. She came hard, voice hoarse, and the sound sent a fresh rush of heat between my own legs. Later she flipped me onto my back and pressed her mouth between my thighs. Her tongue moved with lazy confidence, licking, sucking, pushing inside until I gasped her name. My fingers tangled in her hair and I pulled her closer, riding each wave until I broke, shaking. Afternoon turned into evening with no hurry. We fucked on the couch, against the kitchen counter, in the shower with water running over flushed skin. Her hands knew every inch of me; mine learned hers. Every touch was patient. Every moan was earned. By the time the power returned, we were still wrapped around each other, bodies slick, hearts still racing.