The Cable Guy

She lounges on the couch with nothing on, legs spread, one hand already between her thighs when the cable guy walks in. He tries to focus on the TV, but she catches his eye and keeps rubbing. The second he kneels by the outlet, she slides off the cushions and takes hold of his belt, freeing a thick cock that springs up heavy and hot in her hand. She wraps her lips around him without asking, sliding down until her nose brushes his stomach. He groans, drops the remote, and pulls her bare foot to his mouth, sucking each toe while she works him deeper. When he’s slick and throbbing, she shifts onto her back, plants both feet around his shaft and strokes him in long, steady pumps, the arch of her foot milking every inch. He leans in, licks her pussy once, twice, then pushes inside. She keeps her feet on his chest, toes curling as he thrusts, the rhythm turning quick and urgent until she comes around him with a sharp cry and he spills across her stomach in thick, warm ropes.