Think While You Ink

She sagged backwards, breathing fast, and put an embarrassed hand to her mouth.

He tugged it away, gently, smiling wryly.

"Oh no. Not gonna have you feeling all self-conscious about that. That was... amazing."

And he slid himself inside her again. He was close to coming, so close, she could see it in the lines of tension on his face. It was her turn to encourage him.

"Come on then," she murmured. She cupped her tits with her hands, tweaking her nipples hard, offering him a target – she expected him to unload all over her chest, but he growled, grabbed her hips, and surged forwards. She looked him in the eye and was met with a piercing, almost animal stare as he roared with the release. She felt the heat of his cum deep inside, as he punctuated his final few thrusts with words.

"Holy.. fucking.. hell," he uttered between clenched teeth. He sat up, and swiped at a sheen of sweat on his forehead. A worried look flashed across his face and her own smile vanished – oh, god, now he'd realised what he'd done, hadn't he?

He leaned down and checked the dressing on her leg. Then raised an eyebrow at her.

"Don't look so worried, it's fine," he grinned. He unfolded himself from the sofa and started to dress, throwing her clothes over for her to do the same. It was weird, she thought, that you could expose your most private places to someone, do the filthiest things, and then only afterwards did you feel awkward.

He passed her a glass of water, which she gulped greedily at, still slightly out of breath and still slightly disbelieving. "I've.. well, I have to... Get home, you know..." she blathered.

"It's okay," he said quietly. "Really. I'm not saying anything." He kissed her, softly, slow and sweet. "Email me though, when you want to book in again. That leg piece will need a couple more hours work."