Kitchen. Late at night. Plumber’s toolbox on the floor. She leans back against the fridge, legs spread just enough so you can see how wet she already is—didn’t lock the door. He kneels between her thighs, but she stops him with a hand on his chest: ‘Not yet.’ Fingers hook into her pussy first, slow circles over clit until she’s gasping, then those same fingers drag up to tease her tits. Countertop creaks under her ass as he finally pushes inside—no lube needed—her walls gripping like they’ve been waiting for this all week. Back arches off the cabinets when he flips her onto it; hips slapping against wood every time he drives deep.
