The Canaglias - Lady Muffin Slut

They start arguing before the sun even hits its peak. She drops to her knees on the burning tiles, yanks his cock out, and swallows it down like the morning heat never got a chance. The lounger creaks every time her head bobs. Spit strings off her chin, drips onto his balls. He grabs her hair, slams in deeper, she gags but pushes farther, eyes tearing. When he yanks her up she bends over the edge, ass out, pussy already dripping down her thigh. He drives into her hard, every thrust knocking the metal frame into the deck. Her moans echo across the water as he fingers her clit and she erupts, squirt splashing onto the wood and pooling under her heels. The second time she comes the lounger squeals like it might snap, juice soaking the slats. Half-laughing, half-winded, they catch the metallic taste of lust on their tongues and keep going louder, faster, wetter, chasing the next fight they already know will end inside her again.