April Olsen and Hatler: Bon Appétit.

Tattooed studs were April’s weakness. Hatler walked in wearing that cocky grin and the second she smelled his hunger, the game was set. He begged too loud, too fast, hands already twitching toward her. She shoved him down, climbed onto his chest, and let her pussy hover an inch from his mouth. He strained, she laughed, then she pressed her vibrator to her clit and came hard right on his face, slicking his lips while his tongue flapped uselessly below. His turn came hanging upside-down, rope biting his thighs, blood rushing to his skull. April circled him slow, laid stripes across his back with the flogger until his skin glowed. Satisfied, she stepped between his spread legs and swallowed his cock to the root, throat working while he swung like meat on a hook. When she wanted her own taste, she peeled the pink latex aside and ground her cunt over his mouth until his tongue dragged slick trails through her folds. She wanted more. She wanted inside. Legs hoisted and strapped wide, Hatler’s hole winked under the lights. April buckled the thick strap-on, slicked it once, and drove straight in. Every thrust punched a grunt out of him until his cock jerked untouched, spitting ropes across his own stomach. She scooped the mess with two fingers and fed it to him, watching his throat work. Bon appétit.