August Is A Creampie Dream

Today’s already punching above its weight. August strolls in and I forget how doorknobs work. She drops to her knees, wraps those glossy lips around my cock, and works it like rent’s overdue—slow swirl on the head, long sloppy slides to the root, cheeks hollowing, spit dripping off her chin. When she pulls off she’s glossy and smiling. She climbs on, sinks down, and that greedy, slick pussy swallows me inch by inch until our hips slap. I grab her waist and pound upward, the wet sounds of every thrust echoing around the room while she rides like the pony’s on fire. I flip her, spread her, and bury my tongue in that dripping little cunt, tasting myself and her all mixed together, tongue-fucking her until her thighs shake. When she moans my name like it’s something dirty I climb back between those legs, line up, and hammer until my balls draw up tight. One last thrust and I unload, pumping her full, watching it leak out around my cock in creamy white streaks.