Blowing My Daugther's Boyfriend

Reagan Fox ain't crazy about her daughter's new guy, not one bit. Calls him over, corner-of-her-mouth smirk, curious to find out what the hell her girl's been moaning about. One squeeze through his jeans and her eyebrows shoot up. Damn. That thing feels like trouble. She yanks it out, heavy in her palm, and figures there's only one way to know for sure. Reagan drops to her knees, wraps her lips around the thick shaft, and starts working him slow, tongue swirling every vein like she's memorizing it. Spit slides down her chin while she takes him deeper, gagging just enough to prove she's no amateur. She switches between long, wet sucks and quick, filthy pops off the head, eyes watering but locked on his. Every slurp sounds louder than it should, her hand twisting at the base, pumping whatever won't fit. Reagan moans around him like the taste alone could ruin her lipstick. By the time she pulls off, strings of spit still connecting them, she knows her daughter didn't exaggerate a damn thing.