The Real Thing

Erica Fontes and Lauro Giotto don't waste time. He’s already inside her, hips snapping, cock driving deep, and she takes every inch like she was made for it. Erica’s long blonde hair swings across her shoulders while she gasps, legs spread wide on the white sheets. When he pulls out, she leans in fast, tongue working over his wet shaft, tasting herself without hesitation. Lauro’s hand grips her hair, steering her mouth back onto him, pumping between her lips until spit runs down her chin. Then he bends her over again, thrusting hard from behind, his palm slapping against the curve of her ass. She moans into the mattress, pushing back to meet each stroke. He flips her onto her back, folds her legs high, and pounds into her until his rhythm falters. Erica opens her mouth, eyes locked on his, and he strokes himself right above her face, thick ropes streaking across her cheeks and lips. She licks the corner of her mouth, smiling through the mess, both of them catching their breath in the heavy silence that follows.