She wasn’t supposed to let him cum that deep. One second she’s riding his lap, nails digging into his shoulders like she’s begging for more—next thing you know, he’s shoving her face down before she even swallows the first gush. No warning, no mercy. Thick ropes hit the back of her throat before she can gasp, chin smeared with each fresh burst as he fists her hair and fucks that pretty little mouth raw. The couch springs squeak under their weight; red curtains frame the scene like a guilty confession. His tattooed arms lock around her waist mid-gag, hips stuttering like he can’t decide if he wants to fill her up or paint her face instead.
