After The Shoot

Marley has been modelling since her twenties. The money is good, the travel is easy, the after-parties never stop. Tonight she leaves the lights of the set still behind her and walks straight to two guys she knows from the circuit: Jean Val Jean and Markus Dupree. The three take a corner booth, knock back shots, and the talk turns lazy and close. Hands slide higher under the table. Marley’s thighs open without argument. A quiet word and the three of them slip out to a suite upstairs. In the low lamplight her bush is already damp when she peels off the tiny black thong. Markus eases her onto all fours; Jean slips his cock between her parted lips. She takes him slow at first, breathing through her nose, then opens wider as Markus sinks into her from behind. The pace stays unhurried. Markus grips her hips and rocks deep, each thrust pulling a soft, wet sound from her cunt. Jean strokes her hair, waits his turn. When Markus pulls out, glistening, Jean moves behind her. He slides in at the same measured pace, letting her feel every inch. Marley rocks back to meet him, her mouth open around Markus again, tasting herself. They swap places twice more before either man loses patience. When Jean finally comes, he pulls out and spills across her tongue; she swallows, cheeks hollowing, eyes half-lidded. Markus follows a minute later, pushing back inside so she can feel the warm pulse of him. Marley stays on her hands and knees, breathing hard, spit and come at the corner of her mouth. The room smells of sweat, sex, and the last of her perfume.