The Cable Guy

Horny redhead spotted the cable guy on her couch and thought, why waste time? She grabs him by the cock, the heavy, thick thing already twitching against his zipper, and drags him toward the flat screen like he's dessert. He catches on fast, drops to his knees, and the moment his lips hit her bare toes she moans, working them between her teeth like candy. He sucks each one clean, tongue swirling, wet sounds filling the quiet room. She curls her foot around his shaft and starts jerking him, sole tight, toes flexing along the length like practiced fingers. Spit coats everything—her sole slides easier with each stroke. He groans into her arch and she answers by pushing her wet pussy onto his face, grinding. Payment for services, right? The guy licks, she pumps harder, footjob turning messy fast—pre-cum slipping down his cock onto the couch cushions. When she can't stand it anymore she hauls him up by the shaft, lines it up, and sinks down all at once, taking every inch until her ass meets his thighs. She rides him like rent's due, bouncing hard, tits bouncing free under her loose tee. He grips her hips and thrusts back, feet still in his mouth, slobber soaking them. She laughs, bites her lip, keeps grinding until they both fall apart—one sticky mess of toes, spit, pussy juice and cum dripping off the cushions onto the floor.