She was supposed to be helping with dinner—until that ‘accidental’ spill. Red shirt clinging to heavy tits, cleavage spilling over the countertop while she leans back against him. Fingers already working his belt before he even reacts. Kitchen chair scrapes floor when she pulls him closer, lips already parted for what comes next. First taste of cock is messy—wine-stained lips wrapped tight around thick shaft, gagging but not letting go. Glass slips from her grip as he pins her wrists behind her back on the counter edge; sink water running but neither cares.
