Paper Route

Penny strolls through her living room, strips of sun sliding over her legs as she thumbs a message to Apollo. "You free?" He fires back that he’ll swing by now. A minute later he’s at the door. Their eyes meet like dry tinder and the spark jumps instantly. Hands land on skin, hips press, mouths almost find each other. She catches herself and steers him to the couch. She sits him down, breathing fast. "Hold on." She’s nervous—she’s older, she runs the block, he’s the neighborhood kid on the route. If anyone sees, the rumors will chew them alive. Apollo leans in with that crooked grin, says her name slow, reminds her how it felt when their fingers brushed the first time, how her laugh stayed in his head all day. Says nothing about numbers or neighbors changes what they both want. The worry melts right out of her. She pulls him down onto the cushions, fingers in his hair, knees spreading wide. His cock pushes up hard under his jeans and she rubs it through the denim before she unzips him. She leans back, legs spread, dress bunched at her waist, panties slipped off. Apollo sinks in—slow at first, then deeper—and she wraps her ankles behind his hips, dragging him in till their bellies slap. Penny rides him hard from on top, tits bouncing, breath ragged, her slick cunt gripping him in hungry pulses. He flips her over the arm of the couch and fucks her from behind, thumb pressed to her tight little asshole while she moans into the cushion. She comes loud, thighs shaking, juices running down his balls. He pulls out, jerks twice, and paints thick ropes across her ass and lower back. They catch their breath tangled together, sweat cooling, the neighborhood paper still waiting on the porch.