Face Sitting The Neighbor

We lived next door for three years before I got her in my living room. She showed up after midnight in a black dress that barely held her tits in place. Said she wanted to borrow sugar. I laughed. She didn’t. Ten minutes later the sugar was still in the bowl and I was flat on my back, wrists tied to my own table legs with dish towels. She kicked her heels off and stepped over me like she owned the floorboards. Her weight settled on my face before I could finish asking what she wanted. No words, just the slow grind of her cunt against my mouth, slow enough to feel every fold, fast enough to make my cock twitch against nothing but air. She was soaking through before the first minute. By the third, she had both hands in my hair, using me like furniture. I could smell her, taste her, feel the slick heat every time she rocked forward. She came once without making a sound, thighs shaking around my ears, then kept going like she had nowhere else to be. My jaw ached. My cock stayed hard and useless. She noticed and leaned back just enough to slap it once, light and mean, then settled again. Every breath I took was hers. She didn’t ask. She didn’t stop. And I never said no.