Birthday Girl

She sits waiting. The dress clings, black and thin, the color a promise. Leslie steps inside and stops cold. He forgot. That single look tells her everything. Guilt moves him faster than any apology. He drops to his knees, mouth already working the lace between her thighs. Debbie spreads for him, one leg rising, the bare foot brushing his cheek. He licks until she pulls him up, until her hands guide his cock between her lips. The room fills with wet sound and soft breath. She takes him deep, eyes steady, then lies back again, feet in his lap. Toes press and stroke until he shudders, until she holds him close and finishes him across her face. Every drop lands warm on flushed skin. Leslie stays on his knees, watching, silent, while she breathes through the mess he made.