The Perfect Sale: Part 1

Cherie's boss laid it out plain: sell this dump today or hand your listings over. No ifs, no ands, just out the door. She sniffed fresh meat when Jovan walked through the door, quick abs, slow grin, and room in those slacks for something heavy. She licked her lips, popped the first two buttons on her blouse, and started the guided tour from behind. Her walk was pure weapon—the kind where ass cheeks flex and grind with each step. Jovan followed. She stopped, turned, and pressed her rack right up against him like a real-estate test drive. He grunted. Game on. She dropped to her knees, unbuckled him, and hauled out that long black dick, thick as her wrist and already throbbing. Her mouth opened wide and she swallowed it down in one greedy go, nose against his pelvis, eyes tearing. He grabbed fistfuls of her hair and skull-fucked her on the open-house floor. Gagging, drooling, she took it, moaning around the meat every time he bottomed out. Spit ran off her chin, soaked her cleavage, made her tits glisten. She stood, hiked her skirt, bent over the kitchen island, and spread her cheeks with both hands. "Fill me, stud." He drove that cock straight in, burying it to the balls, stretch and burn perfect. Cherie slammed back on him, fucking like a jackhammer gone feral. Tits swinging wild, nipples brushing marble, her moans bouncing off the walls. He yanked her hair, slapped her ass red, pounding into her clenching hole until the slap of skin was nonstop. She felt him swell, felt him climb, and locked him inside when he shot that thick load straight up her guts. Pulse after pulse filled her, until warm cum leaked down her thighs onto the tile. Jovan stood there panting, dick still twitching inside her. She looked back over her shoulder, winked, and purred, "Keys or contract first?" The house was his now, and she was already planning her commission.