Air B & Double D

Codi Vore tossed her bags down and flopped onto the couch, clothes still damp from the long flight. Alone, finally. She slid her hand between her thighs and rubbed herself through her jeans, then yanked her big tits out of that lacey maroon bra. Her tongue circled one nipple, slow and greedy. On the phone screen, some stranger moaned for her. She never heard the door. Tommy froze on the welcome mat, guest services key still in his hand. He hadn’t expected a live show. His cock stirred—guilty, but curious—so he stayed. He shouldn’t have unzipped. The faint schlick-schlick reached Codi through the music anyway. She looked up, saw the property manager red-faced and dick-in-hand, and laughed, short and surprised. “Well,” she said, popping the bud from her ear, “you came to check on me, right?” Tommy swallowed. Codi crooked a finger. “Job’s about hospitality, isn’t it?” He stepped closer, grateful and grinning, because customer satisfaction is part of the job description—and right now the five-star rating looked very, very promising.