She didn’t wait for permission. The second that delivery boy stepped inside her home, she had his belt undone and his dick halfway down her throat like she’d been starving for months. Tan lines from summer vacations smeared across her back as she clawed at his ass, desperate to pull him deeper—no gag reflex left intact. Kitchen counter edge becomes a makeshift fucking station: legs hooked around his waist while he hammers into her from behind, fingers digging into the laminate where the wood’s already splitting. She whimpers between sloppy wet sounds every time he bottoms out, drool dripping onto the tile floor like proof this wasn’t planned.
