Cleaning the house

I meant to clean. The moment he walked in, that plan died. He saw the curve of my ass and his hands were on me before I could say a word—stroking, squeezing, then his tongue was on my skin, licking slow and hungry. Heat pooled between my thighs, soaking the tiny panties I still had on. His cock thickened fast, hot against my ass, and then he slid it straight into my dripping pussy with one long push. I bent over the counter, legs shaking, while he fucked me deep. He flipped me onto the table, spread me open, took me from the front, from the side, from behind again. The warning on the box was real—he pushed into my ass without asking, stretched me open, fucked me until I was dripping down my thighs. When he was ready he pulled out, stroked once, and painted my face with thick ropes that ran over my lips and chin.