Fuck me bartender

Liza Del Sierra walked up to the bar like she owned the place. One look at her and Zenza Raggi knew exactly what he wanted. He didn’t bother with small talk. His hands found her body first—slow, sure, hungry. She let him pull her closer, let him peel away what little stood between his mouth and that slick, warm heat between her legs. She dropped to her knees behind the bar and took him in. No hesitation. Just that eager mouth sliding down his cock, wet and greedy, until her lips pressed tight against the base. He watched her throat work around him, felt her tongue drag along the underside, and his hips started moving on their own. When he finally pulled her up, he bent her over the bar without asking. Her panties slid to her ankles, forgotten. He drove into her hard enough to rattle the glasses. She pushed back, taking every inch, moaning loud enough that the music couldn’t cover it. He kept her there—open, dripping, used—until he pulled out and painted her face with thick, hot streaks across her lips and cheek.