Looks can be deceiving

Sunday crept by like any other until Chuck Norby left for the gym. Candy Sweet watched him go, lips parted for a kiss that lingered a beat too long. The second the door shut she slipped the lock and stepped back, pulse quickening. Outside, David Perry had been timing his approach, eyes locked on her window. The bell chimed once. Candy opened the door in a short silk robe that barely covered the tops of her thighs. Blonde hair loose, she didn’t speak—just reached for his belt, unbuckled it with one hand while her mouth found his. David’s palm slid under the robe, fingers already slick when they met wet heat between her legs. She dropped to her knees right there in the foyer, lips parting to take him in, tongue working slow then greedy. He held her hair, hips rolling against the tight, wet heat of her mouth. Candy moaned around him, saliva dripping down her chin, eyes half-lidded with hunger. When she pulled back, strands of spit stretched between her lips and the swollen head of his cock. She rose, turned, and bent over the entry table, robe flipped up, bare ass presented. David sank into her in one thrust. Candy gasped, fingers gripping the wood, hips rocking back to meet every drive. Wet sounds filled the quiet house as her thighs shook. Then the pressure peaked. She stiffened, cried out, and her orgasm burst out in a sudden rush that soaked his cock, his balls, the floor beneath them. He didn’t stop. He fucked her straight through the tremors, her pussy still pulsing and dripping until his own release chased hers, pulse after pulse filling her. Candy stayed bent over the table, chest heaving, a slow smile spreading across her lips. Looks can be deceiving, and today she’d proven it.