Black lace thong ripped off fast. Stocking feet kicking at the air as he dives between her thighs. She didn’t hear him come home—just spread wider when he grabbed her hips. Now she’s riding his face with one hand tangled in his hair, the other clawing at the armrest like this isn’t supposed to happen but neither of them can stop. Sloppy wet sounds fill the room, mascara smears down her cheeks, and when he finally stands up—dripping from chin to balls—she doesn’t let go of that cock for a second.
