Chennin Blanc

Revenge hits sweet when you serve it warm and nasty. My fat-cat husband skips alimony so he can dick half the girls at the mall, so I grabbed the cock closest to his paystub—Charlie Mac, his prime piece of office muscle. He showed up thinking we'd swap tears. Ten minutes later his pants were around his knees and that dark, thick shaft was halfway down my throat. He kept muttering about his job security while he was balls-deep in my creamy white cunt, but the second he felt how tight I squeezed he shut the fuck up and started pounding like rent was due. I rode him till my thighs burned, nails digging into those carved abs every time he flexed and drove deeper. He came like a busted fire-hydrant, painting my cheeks and lips with hot, sticky ropes, and we still hook up every night while the lawyers set the meter during the day. For him a pink-slip's a small price to pay for regular access to this greedy cougar pussy—plus the look on my ex's face when the alimony numbers hit will be priceless.