Last Goodbye

Sybil’s wedding dress still hangs in the closet. She stands in front of Christian, skirt already pushed up, panties gone. He drops to his knees and buries his tongue between her cheeks, slow and wet, dragging it over the tight ring of muscle. She grabs the edge of the table and pushes back against his mouth. He keeps at it until she’s slick and loose, then stands, lines his cock up, and presses in. Her breath catches. He works deeper, steady strokes that make her back arch. When he pulls out she spins, drops down, and takes him straight from her ass into her mouth, lips sliding over every inch. She sucks him clean, then cups his balls and pulls one into her mouth, tongue working the skin. He groans, threads his fingers through her hair. She switches, sucks the other, lets them rest heavy on her tongue before she swallows him again. He starts to thrust, careful, controlled, until she relaxes her throat and takes him all the way. Spit drips down her chin. He pulls her up, bends her over again, slides back inside her ass. The rhythm builds, skin slapping, until he yanks out and she drops once more, swallowing him mid-climax, tongue working every spurt. She keeps him in her mouth until he softens, then lets him slip free with a soft, wet sound. Neither says a word. She wipes her lips, stands, straightens her skirt. He zips up. She walks out. The door clicks behind her.