A Lazy Afternoon

The afternoon drags. Ann Marie flips through channels, then flips through pages, and nothing sticks. Csoky comes through the door, and suddenly the air changes. She doesn’t need words. She tugs her panties aside and settles on his mouth, that dark hair falling forward as he licks her cunt and then her tight little hole. Her soft moans turn deeper when his tongue pushes in, slow, greedy, until she’s dripping. He stands. His cock is already hard. She takes it between her lips, sucking him with long, wet strokes, spit sliding down the shaft. He lets her have it until he can’t wait anymore. She turns, spreads, and he slides straight into her ass. No warm-up. No mercy. He fucks her there on the sofa, deep and steady, her fingers gripping the cushions while she takes every thrust. When he’s close he pulls out, strokes once, twice, and paints her face—thick streaks across her lips, her cheek, her lashes. She stays on her knees, tasting it, letting it drip.