Mommy Can't Drive

London River needs a ride to work. Brad Sterling knows exactly what that ride's gonna cost. He grabs her by the shoulders and shoves her down on her knees in the kitchen, cock already hard and jutting out like it owns the place. She glances up at him once, almost eye-rolling, then wraps her mouth around him anyway, sucking wet and sloppy, no hesitation. He thrusts forward, deep enough to make her gag, thick spit dripping down her chin, then pulls out and smacks the head against her tongue just for the sound of it. Her tits bounce every time she takes him deeper, spit-soaked and shining, his hand fisted in her hair so she can't pull away when he bottoms out. She works that shaft like it's owed, jaw stretched wide, throat flexing, until his balls tighten and he pumps thick, messy spurts down her throat. She swallows every drop, wipes her lip with her thumb and stands up without a word like that settles the bill.