Cold like a Stone

Thomas Stone keeps a hard face, the kind you could strike matches on. April Blue leans against the couch and peels her panties down past her hips. The skin there is pale and smooth; the cleft between her cheeks parts just enough to show the tight, puckered hole that waits for him. His hand goes to his zipper without asking for permission. April drops to her knees first, takes his cock in one smooth motion, and works the head until it glistens. She stands again, turns, and grips the back of the sofa. Thomas spits into his palm, spreads it over the shaft, then presses the tip to her anus. She pushes back, slow, until the crown pops inside and the rest follows inch by inch. The muscles ripple around him, gripping every vein. Once he is buried to the root he pulls halfway out and drives in again, the rhythm steady and unforgiving. April reaches back to spread herself wider. He fucks her ass with long, deliberate strokes until the tension builds past holding. He yanks free, spins her around, and paints thick ropes across her flushed cheeks and parted lips. She licks the last bead from the corner of her mouth and swallows without breaking eye contact.