Backstage with Yoha

I’m failing Spanish. Dad hires a tutor. When Yoha steps inside the living room I stop fighting the lessons. She’s golden-skinned, younger than most teachers, and her skirt barely covers what’s underneath. My cock jumps while she’s still setting out the books. We start with verbs, but her pencil rolls off the table and she bends for it. I stare. She catches me, smiles, and drops to her knees. Her mouth is hot, wet, and greedy. She sucks until my balls rest against her chin, saliva glistening on her lips. She stands, turns, and yanks her thong aside. I slide in from behind, gripping her waist, driving deep into that tight cunt while the sofa creaks under us. Dad walks in, zipper already down. He spreads her cheeks, spits, and pushes into her ass. We find a rhythm—me filling her pussy, him stretching her ass, every thrust forcing a moan from her throat. Yoha’s mouth hangs open, eyes glassy, until Dad pulls out and paints her face white. She licks the last drops from his tip, then mine, cheeks streaked and shining.