La Petite Perdida

He told her he had a new toy at home, and she came over, toy-obsessed as always. He tossed in the line about his photo studio, knowing she liked pictures. They searched for the toy, found nothing, and her face dropped. He flipped the script, offered a lingerie shoot right in his room. She trusted him, said yes. The air changed fast. She undressed while he set the lights. Click after click, the poses got bolder, the glances longer. He moved in to fix a strap, his hand lingered, and suddenly they were kissing hard. He lifted her, laid her out, and went straight down on her, tongue deep and hungry. Then he flipped her onto all fours, pulled her hips back, and drove in bare, no rubber, no pause. She gasped, he groaned, and the pace turned quick and rough. She climbed on top next, took him deep in cowgirl, her thighs slapping his skin. He held her waist, guiding every grind. When she slid down to her knees and swallowed him to the back of her throat, he grabbed her hair and fucked her mouth slow, savoring the wet heat. She climbed back up, facing away this time, and he thrust up into her again, harder, the slap of skin echoing. Every position stripped away whatever game they’d started, leaving nothing but raw need.