Cheating Slut Fucks You While On Phone With Boyfriend

Jen raps twice on your door and breezes inside like she owns the place. Drops onto the couch and starts unloading about your buddy—how he never listens, leaves her hanging, typical whiny girlfriend routine. You sit there, nodding, nursing your beer. Out of nowhere she pops up, yanks her shirt off, wriggles out of that tight little skirt. Next thing you know she’s on her knees, lips stretched around your cock, cheeks hollowing like it’s the best thing she’s tasted all week. Her phone buzzes. Your pal’s name lights up the screen. She answers without missing a beat, mouth still working you while she coos into the receiver. You hear him on the other end, clueless. She keeps bobbing her head, tongue swirling, every slurp hidden behind sweet little “mm-hmms.” She climbs up, turns around, sinks down reverse cowgirl—still phone-to-ear—riding you slow and nasty so the guy can’t hear the wet slap every time her ass meets your thighs. One smooth switch and she’s on all fours, doggy now, back arched, phone wedged between ear and shoulder while you pound her from behind. After that she twists around, spits on your dick, strokes the length with one hand and sucks the head, whispering promises to him between licks. You shove back into her mouth; she grins around you. Flat on the couch again, legs spread wide, you rail her missionary. Another ring—him again—and she answers mid-stroke. You’re pistoning into her, the headboard knocking, while she moans a soft greeting like nothing’s happening. Then she throws a leg over and straddles you again, grinding on top, phone still going, hips rolling so her tits bounce right in your face. She hops off for one last sloppy suck, then flattens on her stomach. You split her cheeks and fuck her deep, rutting into her until she’s breathless against the cushions. One more spin—missionary again, you hammering her into the cushions while she mumbles through the conversation—until she flips back to doggy. You grip her hips, burying yourself harder, until the pressure boils over. She keeps talking, cool as ice, until the second you paint thick ropes across her ass. Finally she says her goodbyes, taps the screen dead, and flashes you that wicked little smile.