Tan lines from ripped stockings hugging pale thighs. Fingers buried deep between them first, then a tongue sliding up her slit before she drops to her knees. Kitchen countertop gleams with spit and cum by the end. No warning—just a hand on the back of her head and that knowing smirk as she gulps it down like it’s dessert after a long day. Ass wiggles when he pins her against the fridge next.