Busty insured

Jennifer Morante lounged around her flat with nothing on but a thin robe. Her thoughts kept circling the same itch: she needed a man inside her. The doorbell cut through the haze. She opened to find Keni Styles, insurance papers in hand. She let him in anyway, because the sight of him in that tailored suit woke something lower down. He launched into his pitch, flipping pages on the coffee table. Jennifer watched the way fabric pulled across his lap and stopped pretending to listen. Instead she leaned closer and asked, sweet as sugar, if he could guarantee one other thing—something that started with his cock and ended with her coming hard. Keni didn’t bother with another word. He dropped the paperwork, dropped to his knees, and spread her thighs. His tongue found her already wet, and he worked it with steady purpose while her hands tangled in his hair and her hips rolled against his face. Blonde hair spilled over her shoulders, her soft moans the only sound left in the room.