The Plumbing Works

Gunnar shows up with a toolbox and a smirk. Christie greets him at the door in shorts so small they might as well not be there, nipples hard against her tee. She leads him straight to the sink, bends over way lower than necessary, and that’s the match struck. They don’t even make it to the bedroom. He peels those shorts down and finds her already slick, folds warm and ready. She gasps when he drops to his knees, tongue flicking her clit like he’s tasting something expensive. Two fingers pump in deep, curling until her legs shake. Christie moans loud, grabs the counter, pushes back on his face until she coats his stubble in her come. He stands, cock thick and angry red. She wraps fingers around it, spits on the head, strokes slow and filthy while she meets his eyes. Then he spins her, lifts one thigh, and sinks in to the root. The wet slap of skin fills the kitchen as he pounds her against the cabinets, balls smacking her ass, tits bouncing free. Every thrust knocks another dirty word from her mouth. When his hips stutter, she drops, takes him to the back of her throat, and swallows every pulse. Cum spills over her tongue and she keeps sucking till he’s twitching, drained dry.