Summer Day Is Fucked Hard

Summer's looking ridiculous in the best way, bikini barely hanging on while the sun hits all the right angles. She wraps both hands around him and goes down like she's starving for it, lips stretched wide and her tongue doing that greedy little swirl before taking him deeper. He bends her over the edge of the lounger first, hips snapping fast and she’s just laughing between moans, pushing back harder. Then she’s on her back, knees to her chest while he pounds the whole couch squeak-shifts beneath them, her tits bouncing with every thrust. She flips on top, rides like she’s racing something only she can feel, grinding down until her thighs shake. Every time she gets flipped or pinned she grins bigger, eyes glassy with pure want. Last she’s on her knees again, mouth open, tongue out, and he gives her the finish across her cheek and lips—sticky, dripping—and she still smiles through it like it’s the punchline she ordered.