Backstage with Foxy Di

Foxy opens the door in nothing but a thin robe that parts when she moves. Her teacher stands in the hallway, papers in hand, ready to talk to parents who aren’t home. She doesn’t pretend to feel sorry. Instead she drops the robe and steps in close, her bare skin brushing his clothes. She goes to her knees, takes his cock out, and wraps her soft lips around it right there in the doorway. He lets the essay fall to the floor as she works him deeper, tongue sliding underneath. When he’s hard and slick she stands, turns, and bends over the kitchen counter. She reaches back, spreads herself, and guides him straight into her pussy—tight, warm, already wet. He grips her waist and fucks her with long, steady strokes while she pushes back to meet every thrust. After a while she pulls away, leans forward over the table, and offers the tight ring of her ass. He slides in slow, letting her adjust, then starts to move again. She moans into the wood, one hand between her legs, rubbing herself as he fucks her ass until he pulls out and spills across her lower back. The essay stays on the floor, forgotten.