He’s sitting on the couch, all relaxed, unsuspecting. I walk up — no bra under a tight little top, hair loose, eyes full of intent. I move slow, like a tease, like I’ve got all the time in the world. His legs are spread — an open invitation. I toss a pillow to the floor right between them, like it’s nothing.<br>I start tying my hair up. He smirks, looking down at me.<br>— <i>“I hope you’re not about to go digging for a pen or a hair tie under the couch…”</i><br>I look up at him, already kneeling between his thighs, and smile with that <i>watch closely</i> kind of confidence.<br>— <i>“Already found the hair tie. And let’s be honest — we’re way past silly distractions. You know what I’m here for.”</i><br>He doesn’t say a word. His eyes say everything. And then I’m unzipping him, pulling his cock out — thick, warm, already pulsing from the tension. I start slow, swirling my tongue, tasting every inch. Wet, teasing, deliberate. Then deeper… and deeper — until he’s pressing all the way in.

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