Summer Gets Sloppy

Summer Col strides out in skimpy red lingerie that barely covers her, hips popping with every step like she already knows Apollo’s about to lose his mind. She smirks, turns, bends, and lets the thong snap against her ass before she peels it off one cheek at a time. His pants come down, cock springing free, and she zeroes in, spitting straight on the tip then smearing it with her tongue in lazy circles. Not two strokes in and spit trails already drizzle down his shaft and drip onto her chest. She dives back in, takes half his length and doesn’t stop until her nose kisses his pelvis, lips grinding against skin while mascara streaks her cheeks. Slurp after wet slurp, she bobs hard enough her tits bounce, each loud suck sending ropes of drool down her chin. Apollo groans and bucks; she grins around the mouthful, gargles on purpose, then pulls back to slap the throbbing head across her tongue, watch the strings stretch, and slam right back down like it’s her mission. Spit pools everywhere—tits, thigh, balls—and she doesn’t wipe a drop, just keeps pushing until his whole shaft is glistening and her chin shines like it’s been glazed.