More Than A Friend

Ziggy Star and Ricky Johnson grew up like family. Then one minute she's seeing him for the first time—walking sex. That fat cock keeps running on loop in her head, the way it’d stretch her lips, fill her mouth until her eyes water. Driving back from wherever, she snaps. She can’t sit on this heat another mile. They get to her place and she doesn’t bother with small talk. Just drags him inside, shuts the door, stares him down. “You like me more than friends?” she asks, already pressing her body into his, nipples hard through her top. His mouth opens and hers takes it—wet, greedy, tongue shoving past his teeth. She drops fast, yanks his jeans open, and that thick cock springs free, heavy, veined, the head already slick. She moans like she’s starving, wraps her lips around it and sucks like she’s mad at it. No teasing—just hungry bobbing, spit drooling down his shaft while her tongue works the underside like she’s trying to pull the soul right out of him. Ricky stays rock-hard, hands in her hair, hips punching forward. When she pops off, panting, strings of spit connecting her lower lip to his cock, he flips her, bends her over the couch, and slams into her soaked pussy in one brutal thrust. No warm-up. She cries out, pushing back for more, her walls gripping him like they want to milk every drop. He pounds her deep, balls slapping, one hand locked around her throat, the other spanking her ass red. Ziggy takes every inch and begs for harder, wet sounds echoing until he roars, floods her cunt with hot cum, her pussy spasming around him, overflowing so it runs down her thighs and stains the floor. They’re grinning at each other, dripping, way past the friend zone now.