Tommy's Revenge 3

In Tommy Pistol’s revenge fantasy, he flips the script on Casey Calvert—the woman who runs his real life. Right now she’s on her hands and knees atop that snowy white fur ottoman he’s forbidden to touch, her back arched, ass high. He barks the order: fingers on her cunt, work it until it’s slick and shiny. The second she’s dripping he slams into her from behind, hips snapping hard. She moans, breath catching with every thrust. He tells her to spin, get her mouth on his balls while she keeps rubbing herself. Tommy stretches out on the ottoman; Casey climbs on top, sinks down, rides him until he decides otherwise. He drops her to her knees, grips her hair, fucks her throat deep. When he’s ready he makes her beg, then paints her face with thick ropes of cum. Eyes glassy, lips shiny, she looks up and whispers, “Thank you, sir.”