Divorced Milf Still Has Needs

Christie had the divorce papers still cooling in the drawer when she noticed that drip under the sink. Old habits die hard, especially the ones that kept her jaw in shape five mornings a week. She\'d watch Jack work, his shirt damp from the leak, forearms flexing, and her mouth remembered exactly what to do with an open invitation like that. \"Sink\'s fixed,\" he said, wiping his hands. Christie stood there in her robe, nothing underneath, and didn\'t blink. \"I used to give head every day,\" she told him straight. \"Husband left, routine went with him. Figured you earned one.\" Jack got hard before she finished the sentence. She dropped to her knees on the kitchen tile, tugged his jeans down, and took him all the way to the back of her throat in one smooth swallow. Spit ran down her chin, her tongue working underneath the shaft like she was rinsing out muscle memory. He grabbed the counter while she bobbed, lips tight, cheeks hollowing with each stroke. She came up for air once, strings of saliva connecting her mouth to his dick. \"Missed this,\" she muttered, then went back down, sucking harder, hand twisting at the base, slurping loud enough to drown out the kitchen clock. He came across her tongue in thick pulses and she swallowed without losing rhythm, throat working until he stopped twitching. When it was over she wiped her bottom lip with her thumb and smiled like she\'d just paid a bill.