The Lay In Layover

Candie Luciani walks into her apartment with a steady click of her heels, carry-on bag swinging at her side. Emmanuel Torquemada stays close, eyes already fixed on the tight line of her skirt. She turns the key, glances back, and smiles like she has every intention of letting him keep looking. Inside, the door shuts. She drops her bag, smooths her skirt, and the game begins. She invited him on impulse. Throughout the flight he had not looked away from her ass, gaze glued to the fabric every time she passed. Now the layover clock is running, and she wants what he has been promising without a word. Candie peels the skirt upward, revealing smooth skin and the black thong she kept hidden under her uniform. Emmanuel steps closer, fingers already tracing the curve he has studied for hours. She pushes the thong aside, arches her back, and slips two fingers between her cheeks, slowly working one inside. A quiet sigh leaves her as the pressure builds, her body answering the urge she has held since landing. Emmanuel watches her open herself, cock straining against his trousers. Candie’s free hand finds her clit, rubbing in tight circles while she keeps the finger moving deeper. Her breath shortens. She adds a second finger, stretches, twists, finds the spot that makes her knees soften. Emmanuel frees himself and presses the slick head to her entrance. She meets him halfway, pushing back, taking him in one smooth stroke. He grips her hips, thrusts hard, and she meets every stroke with her own. They move fast, no wasted motion, bodies slapping in rhythm. Candie’s fingers stay busy on her clit, pushing her closer. When she comes, it is sudden and sharp, a tight clench around his cock. Emmanuel follows seconds later, buried deep, pulse after pulse flooding her. They stay locked for one long breath before she eases away, already checking the time on the oven clock. Layover over. She straightens her skirt, gives him a last knowing look, and reaches for her bag.