Ryder Rey plants her hand on Celtic Iron’s thigh and grins like she just thought of the best joke in the house. “You folded my tiny lace panties,” she coos. “So I guess it’s time I fold my mouth around something of yours.” She drops to her knees on the tile, shorts already yanked to mid-thigh, and licks a hot stripe straight up the zipper of his jeans. The fabric darkens where her tongue presses. Celtic’s fingers slide into her mess of dark hair, and the click of his fly sounds louder than the dryer. When his cock springs free, Ryder moans like it’s her favorite flavor, then swallows him down in one wet, greedy gulp. Spit rolls down the shaft in glossy ropes. She pumps with both hands while her cheeks hollow, taking him so far her nose brushes trimmed hair every time she sinks. Every few strokes she pulls off just to smear the mess across her lips, laughing softly, “Laundry tip of the day: detergent works, but so does drool.” Celtic’s hips jerk. She answers by dragging her tongue under the head, savoring the salt and the twitch against her taste buds. When she finally pulls back, a long string connects her bottom lip to the tip until she breaks it with her thumb and licks it off like it’s whipped cream. Her voice is hoarse but playful. “Consider the debt paid, roomie.”
Ryder Rey plants her hand on Celtic Iron’s thigh and grins like she just thought of the best joke in the house. “You folded my tiny lace panties,” she coos. “So I guess it’s time I fold my mouth around something of yours.” She drops to her knees on the tile, shorts already yanked to mid-thigh, and licks a hot stripe straight up the zipper of his jeans. The fabric darkens where her tongue presses. Celtic’s fingers slide into her mess of dark hair, and the click of his fly sounds louder than the dryer. When his cock springs free, Ryder moans like it’s her favorite flavor, then swallows him down in one wet, greedy gulp. Spit rolls down the shaft in glossy ropes. She pumps with both hands while her cheeks hollow, taking him so far her nose brushes trimmed hair every time she sinks. Every few strokes she pulls off just to smear the mess across her lips, laughing softly, “Laundry tip of the day: detergent works, but so does drool.” Celtic’s hips jerk. She answers by dragging her tongue under the head, savoring the salt and the twitch against her taste buds. When she finally pulls back, a long string connects her bottom lip to the tip until she breaks it with her thumb and licks it off like it’s whipped cream. Her voice is hoarse but playful. “Consider the debt paid, roomie.”
