Backstage of Museum visit

She wasn’t listening to a word about the fifteenth-century carpet. Her eyes kept drifting to the guide’s hands, the line of his jaw, the way his slacks sat low on his hips. All she could picture was that same body stripped bare, his thick cock pressing between her cheeks, stretching her tight little hole open while the other tourists wandered off toward the next room. The thought alone made her clit throb. Later, when the group thinned out, she slipped behind a velvet rope, tugged him into a quiet alcove, and dropped to her knees. Her mouth stretched around him fast, tongue swirling, spit dripping down her chin as she sucked him hard and eager. When she turned, palms flat to the cool wall, she reached back and spread herself, offering that tiny pink ring. He didn’t hesitate. One slow, steady thrust and he was buried balls-deep in her ass, her breath hitching with every inch. She rocked back to meet him, greedy, until his grip tightened on her hips and he started fucking her in deep, deliberate strokes that made her moan into her own forearm.