Cory Chase and Rebel Rhyder in Put Out or Get Out

Rebel's been living under my roof without paying a dime. Stretched out by the pool in that scrap of bikini, all long legs and smooth skin. I finally snapped. "New terms," I told her. "Sex, or you can pack your shit and go sleep on the street." Her throat worked. She knew she had nowhere else. Without a word, she reached up, hooked two fingers under the thin fabric, and dragged her own top aside. Her nipples tightened in the air. She tugged me closer and closed her warm mouth around one, sucking, flicking her tongue until the pull shot straight between my legs. Her hand wandered lower. She slipped the bikini bottom down my thighs, spread me open, and pressed her tongue flat against my clit. Slow, deliberate laps turned quick and greedy as I grabbed the back of her head and ground against her mouth. I came hard, hips jerking, thighs trembling against her cheeks. Still riding the high, I pushed her onto her back. My lips traced down the soft plane of her stomach, then lower. She tasted sweet and clean as I worked her clit the same way she worked mine: firm circles, then sharp suction, until her thighs clamped around my ears and she shuddered through her orgasm. Neither of us was finished. We shifted on the lounge, her mouth on me again, mine buried between her legs. The position let us take our time, licking and sucking, chasing the second wave. I felt her moan around my clit right as I tensed and came again, tasting her release against my tongue at the same time. She stayed. We both know she’s not going anywhere now.