Sexual Dessert

Amarna Miller set the table for Tommy Gunn. He took his seat expecting dinner. She had other plans. She stood, peeled off her top, and let her small, natural breasts catch the light. Tommy reached. She stepped closer, guiding his hand between her thighs. Her pussy was already slick. She leaned in and fed him two fingers coated in her wetness, then climbed onto the table. He stood. She freed his cock and took it straight to the back of her throat, working it with slow, wet pulls until spit ran down her chin. When she climbed into his lap, her petite frame settled easily over him. She rocked her hips, grinding her bubble butt against his balls with every drop. The pace stayed steady—short, greedy strokes that kept her clit pressed to his shaft. Tommy held her waist, watching her red hair fall forward as she rode. When her breathing hitched, he pulled out, stroked once, and came across the neat strip of hair above her swollen lips. She stayed still, letting it drip and settle, then smiled like the meal was finally complete.