The Voyeur #05

Jimmy hits her door like a man chasing a fix. Jenn opens it half-smiling, half-daring him. The second it clicks shut he has her against the wall, tongue in her mouth, hands already under her shirt, greedy as a thief. She yanks his belt open, teeth catching his bottom lip, and they stumble down the hall half-dressed, knocking over a lamp they don’t bother to right. On her bed he drags her panties aside and sinks his tongue straight between her wet folds, eating like he’s starved, nose buried in the scent of her cunt while she grinds down and moans, already dripping down his chin. Jenn flips the script, pushes him flat and mounts his cock in one slick slide that makes them both curse. She rides him hard, thighs flexing, tits bouncing, nails scoring his chest. Every time she lifts off he thrusts up to meet her, buried to the root, wet skin slapping in the dark. He flips her, takes her from behind, fingers digging red crescents into her hips while he pounds without mercy, balls swinging heavy against her. She begs for it deeper, voice ragged, and he gives it until she’s shaking. When she comes her whole body seizes, cunt clenching so tight he has to fight to keep moving; the pressure drags him over too and he empties with a guttural growl, flooding her, pulse after thick pulse. They stay locked, sweat-slick and shaking, breaths crashing like they just survived a wreck. Neither one pulls away.