Stepsis Proves She's a Throat Goat

Ethan heard everything last night. Emily bragging to her friend about how she could deep throat anything, calling herself the throat goat like it was some badge of honor. So he confronted her. No preamble, no dancing around it—just laid the claim right out between them. She blushed, but she didn't back down. Good for her. He dropped the hot dogs on the table. A whole lineup of them. Her eyes widened, but she rolled with it, said she could handle it. Started with the smallest one, slid it down like nothing. The next, the next, up the line, pushing herself harder each time. She got to the thickest one, managed most of it, then choked hard. Coughed, wiped her mouth, laughed it off. Told him she was used to something thicker. Realer. Asked for his cock instead. He froze. Said no at first. She told him it was free head, reminded him they shared nothing except the roof. That sealed it. She got him out, already half hard from watching her, spit on him, worked him with both hands, her mouth, her tongue. Sloppy, loud, mean with it. She throated him down to the base, took his hips in her hands and fucked her own face. Drool poured down her chin, over her tits. She pressed those heavy, wet tits around his cock and let him thrust between them. Each stroke wetter than the last. They stumbled to the bedroom. She climbed on fast, lined him up, and dropped. Her pussy took him in one slide, creamy, tight, hungry. She rode him hard, ass flexing with every bounce, the wet sound of her cunt swallowing him filling the room. Ethan grabbed her hips and fucked up into her, splitting her open each time, her ass rippling with the force. She came first time shaking, second time louder, fists twisting the sheets. He held out until her third. Then he pulled her off, dragged her head down. She opened wide, eyes locked on his, and took every rope across her tongue and down her throat, swallowed it all, licked her lips, and grinned like she'd won.