Boutique Physiques

Naked and soaked in sweat, she drops the hem she was clutching and slaps both palms on the glass. "Fuck… give me the next size up," she breathes, half-order, half-plea. Outside, the night clerk smirks, already unzipping. Last time this started polite—Now she’s backed up to the mirror, tits mashed flat, thighs glossy, ass out, while he works another extra inch inside her. Every thrust shoves her forward until her cheek squeaks on the cool pane. "Think… this one’ll fit?" he grunts. "Bigger," she gasps, cheek sliding down the glass with every snap of his hips. "Wanna feel it tomorrow." The little silver bell above the door jingles when a customer walks in; neither of them care.