Troublemaker

Sophia presses the phone against the dresser and hits record. She’s naked on his bed, knees tucked to her chest, fingering slow circles around her own rim. Spit drips from her tongue onto the tight pucker and she works it in, breathing through every push. The lens catches the wet shine and the way her hole flutters open just enough to swallow the tip of one finger. She stops, hits send, then lies there with her heart punching at her ribs. Mick’s reply pops up almost at once: come over. When she steps inside he’s already hard under his jeans. He turns her around, bends her over the arm of the couch, spreads her cheeks. His tongue lands flat and hot, dragging up from her cunt to her asshole, again and again until she’s slick and gasping. He spits once more, lines the blunt head of his cock to her hole, and eases in—inch by inch, holding her open so she feels every stretch. She moans, pushing back until he’s buried to the root. He fucks her ass slow at first, then harder, the slap of skin loud in the quiet room. Every few strokes he pulls out, lets her taste herself on his cock, deep-throats her until spit runs down her chin. Then he slides straight back in. She comes with her fingers on her clit, ass gripping him, and he doesn’t stop until he’s ready to paint her tongue one last time.