Delivery Domme

Glenn calls for takeout at the poolside lounge chair. The delivery girl shows up in boots and shorts, already taking charge. She sees exactly what he is and steps inside like the place is hers. He’s handing her the food before he knows what’s happening. She sits on the lounge, legs stretched, bare feet up, and tells him to feed her every bite. He drops to his knees and does it. She keeps eating. He keeps feeding. Then she hooks a finger in his collar and pulls his face between her cheeks, smothering him right there by the water while the food sits half-eaten. When she’s finished the last fry she plants her soles on his tongue, grinding her heels against it until it’s slick. She peels her shorts down, presses his mouth to her ass again, and stays there until his tongue is buried and his cock is throbbing. She spits on her palm, grips him tight, strokes him slow and mean while she keeps his face trapped. When he finally comes she wipes her hand across his lips, makes him lick it clean, then tells him he’s running the rest of her route. He nods with her ass still on his mouth. She owns him.