I Caught My Wife Fucking The Help! #05 - Febby Twigs

Rion smelled rat. His wife came home wearing the same perfume he bought her two years ago, like it was new again. He told Ramon he’d swing by the bar early, hoping to walk in on something. Ramon just shrugged and kept wiping glasses. Couldn’t find a damn thing out of place. So Rion left. Ten minutes later she strolled in, door barely shut before she dropped to her knees behind the counter and yanked Ramon’s belt open. That cock swung out heavy as a crowbar. She swallowed half of it on the first go, eyes tearing up but throat working like it was a contest she meant to win. Ramon grabbed her hair and fucked her mouth until spit ran down her chin. She stood, turned, hiked her skirt and took him from behind on the bar top—feet barely on the floor, elbows knocking over clean glassware while he slammed in balls-deep. Every thrust punched a wet sound out of her; every time he bottomed out she gushed down his balls and onto the floorboards. He spun her again, sat her on the rail and drove until her legs shook and a second squirt sprayed the beer taps. One final slam and he yanked out, coated her face in thick ropes—eyes, lips, tongue—until she blinked through it smiling. That’s the exact second the door opened and Rion walked in. He didn’t raise his voice; he just told her to pack, told Ramon he was done, and left them standing in the mess.