The Squirting Housewives

Katie Morgan greeted the contractor like she meant business, skirt already creeping up her thighs. She leaned over the ruined flooring, ass out, making sure he got the full view. A month? Fuck that. She flipped her hair, flashed that wicked smile, and offered a trade—he could start tomorrow if he let her ride his cock right there on the sawdust. He didn't say no. Pants down, tool belt clanging to the floor, he bent her over the half-demolished boards while she slammed back onto him like she owned the place. Katie’s squirting orgasm hit hard, soaking his balls and the plywood beneath them. He was booked solid the next day—just not for work.