Mr. Fix It

Mr. Fixit is up in the attic, pounding at the wall, when Sorana brings him coffee. She’s a slim blonde teen in a short dress, long legs bare, cup steaming in her hand. He takes one look and the hammer drops. She sets the coffee aside, drops to her knees, and takes his cock straight into her mouth—slow, wet, hungry. He pulls her up, spins her around, bends her over the workbench. The dress rides up; nothing underneath. He spreads her, works two fingers into her pussy first, then presses his slick head against her tighter hole. She pushes back, takes him deep in one steady thrust. He fucks her ass in long, measured strokes while her fingers rub quick circles over her clit. Sweat runs down his back. She moans into the bare boards, legs shaking, until he pulls out and she drops again to finish him off with her mouth, swallowing every drop.