Bored? Let's fuck!

Bob had a long day with nowhere to go. Easy fix. He calls a girl who likes to fuck. Amy shows up wearing black lace that barely counts as clothing. She drops to her knees first, takes him deep, lips stretched, throat working until her eyes water. Bob keeps her there, hand in her hair, hips rolling slow. Then he spreads her on the couch, tongue dragging over slick folds, tasting every wet inch while she moans and grinds against his mouth. When he finally pushes inside her, she rides like she means it—slow circles, then hard drops, taking every inch until the sound of skin meeting skin fills the room. She leans in, breath hot against his ear, chasing the edge without a single pause.