Blonde Mermaid

Christen looks like she swam straight out of some old story. Hair like pale gold, body smooth and gleaming, the kind of beauty that pulls men in before they even think twice. She does not sing. She does not need to. One slow smile and she has them following her anywhere. She starts on her knees, mouth wet and eager, taking him deep until her eyes water. She works with quiet hunger, tongue teasing every inch, lips sliding in a steady rhythm. Spit runs down her chin but she does not wipe it away. She wants him slick, ready. When she turns, she offers the tighter entrance without a word. He grips her hips and pushes in, slow at first, then deeper. Her breath hitches. The stretch makes her back arch, but she presses back into him, asking for more. Each thrust lands harder, skin slapping, her soft cries spilling out. He pulls free just in time. She stays on all fours, face turned, mouth open. Thick ropes land across her lips and cheeks, warm and heavy. She licks what she can reach, eyes half-lidded, still smiling like the sea just delivered exactly what she wanted.