The New Normal

Little Caprice has just closed one chapter in Spain. Divorce left a dull ache behind, so she steps onto the sun-washed streets in search of something that burns. She finds Freddy Gong, tall, dark, unhurried. No small talk. She takes his hand and they slip inside the nearest doorway. In seconds her dress drops, his belt hits the floor. She sinks to her knees, lips stretch wide around thick length, tongue working in greedy strokes. He grips her hair, hips flex, sliding deeper until she swallows him whole. The moment her throat gives that first wet choke, he groans and fucks her mouth harder. Caprice doesn’t pull back; she opens further, eyes wet, saliva on her chin. He pulls her up, spins her, drops onto his back. She climbs over him, mouth returns to his cock, pussy sinks onto his tongue. They trade rhythm, her moans muffled, his licks steady and slow. When he is slick with spit she straddles his face again, riding the pressure of his tongue while her throat works every inch he gives. Sweat beads, muscles tighten, her thighs start to shake. Freddy grunts, swells, floods her mouth with hot release. She swallows the first pulse, keeps the rest on her tongue, shows him before letting it slide down. Both breathe hard, bodies glistening, and the ache she carried from home feels a little further away.