Barbie Drains Balls To Get Help Around The House

Barbie Feels shoves the mop around like it personally insulted her. Dust bunnies the size of tumbleweeds hide in every corner, the sink's piled with plates from three days ago, and laundry's threatening to stage a coup. Celtic Iron slumps on the couch, thumbs jerking across the controller like the game's cheating on him with his rival. She sighs loud enough to rattle the windows and plants a fist on her hip. "Honey, come on. A little help wouldn't kill you." Without taking his eyes off the screen, Celtic grunts back, "Tell you what—I'll pitch in once you pitch in. Bend over right here, suck the stress outta my nuts, and we'll talk chores later." Barbie rolls her eyes so hard it's a miracle they don't fall out, but a smirk cracks the corner of her mouth. She's too turned on by his nerve to stay annoyed. The load drops, the mop clatters, and she's already unzipping his fly. One quick tug frees his cock—half-hard, warm, veins lazily rising like they wanna shake hands. She drops to her knees, lips parting, tongue already sliding the length of him. Celtic's grunt turns appreciative. He leans back, lets her mouth work, while the game's last screen fades. With her throat opening, her shoulders relaxing, that fat cock sliding down her tongue, chores somehow don't seem quite so painful. One easy deal. One very juicy payment.