Kitchen Suckjob

Skylar Snow drops the sponge mid-dish pile, wipes her hands on her tits, and bends down. Her stepson’s already stiff, throbbing in his sweats, the head catching on the waistband like it’s trying to pop free. She yanks the fabric down and his dick bounces straight up, flushed and heavy, the vein along the shaft pulsing under the kitchen light. Skylar grins like she found trouble, spits on her palm, and wraps both fists around it—tight grip, slow stroke, thumb sliding over the wet slit each pass. Her chunky silver rings clink on every thrust. First she leans in for a sloppy lick, tongue flat, saliva stringing down her chin, then swallows the whole head in one wet gulp, cheeks hollowing, throat clicking as she gags on the next bob. Spit runs over her knuckles. She switches from hand-jerk to full throat, nose pressed into his pubes, then pulls off with a thick cough, strings of spit breaking off her lip. Cupping his balls, she squeezes once—rough—before standing, yanking her shorts and panties aside in one quick tug, already soaked. He barely gets a breath before she lines him up and sinks down, cunt swallowing every inch in a sloppy glide. She rides like she’s trying to break a record, ass clapping loud on his thighs, tits smacking his face. Every downstroke she grinds her clit into him, every upstroke makes a wet, obscene suction sound. Skylar smirks, hair sticking to her cheek, voice low and dirty: “You bored now, kid?”