She owns the rhythm right there by the sink, fingers locked around that shaft, pumping steady while her bare tits bounce lightly. Kitchen counter backdrop, white cabinets framing her naked grin — brunette hair framing those eager eyes. Picks up the pace, twisting at the head, veins popping under her grip. Tension coils. He throbs hard. She milks it faster, thumb circling the tip, until ropes shoot across her knuckles. No rush to stop. Squeezes out the last drops, smirking like she won the round.