She wasn’t supposed to be here. Neither was he. One minute they’re strangers; the next, her lips are wrapped tight around his shaft while her fingers dig into his back—no condom. The living room stays lit like some sick confession booth, curtains half-drawn as if someone might walk in any second. He starts slow, teasing her tits with one hand before shoving that thick dick past her lips. She gags but takes it deeper, eyes watering as he grips her hair hard enough to leave marks. Then—switch—she flips him onto his back and straddles him fast, riding like she’s late for something only this feels better than.
