Helping With That Load

Ryder barely waits for the dryer to click off. She struts in wearing nothing but an old tee that barely covers her round ass, drops to her knees like she's starving for cock. Celtic Iron barely gets a “what the hell—” out before her hot mouth is on him—wet, sloppy, dripping strings of spit down his shaft. She sucks like she’s thanking him with every slurp, thick strands of drool hanging from her chin, coating his balls. One hand works his shaft, the other cups tight and tugs, all sloppy licks and gluk-gluk sounds bouncing around the laundry room. Ryder’s tongue slathers every inch, moaning like dirty work earns her the prize at the bottom of his load, swallowing him deeper, faster, greedy little sounds jumping from her throat as Celtic finally grabs her hair and fucks her mouth just how she wants it—filthy gratitude in every messy, wet thrust.