Free-Use Furniture

Chloe would crawl on broken glass for her girl Octavia. She volunteers to be furniture—a breathing footstool under Octavia's heels—nothing off-limits. Tonight Octavia decided to ride her. Chloe straps a thick cock to her hips so Octavia can use her however she wants, whenever she wants. Now the redhead plants herself, grinning as she sinks down, inch by slick inch, her ass swallowing the shaft like she owns it. Each time Octavia bounces, Chloe's face vanishes beneath Octavia's warm weight—her seat for the conversation. Octavia's cell lights up. Kenna. She answers on the second ring, utterly casual, grinding slow circles on Chloe's face while she talks stocks, dinner plans, a rumor about the new girl in marketing. Every rise and drop jolts Chloe's hips beneath her; every laugh from Octavia squeezes tighter around the toy still buried inside her. Octavia moans once—quiet, almost bored—as the strap rubs exactly right, then keeps chatting like nothing's happening below the belt.