Backstage of Summer satisfaction

Summer should be fading. The heat only got worse. She opened the door in a slip that barely reached her thighs, nipples pushing against silk, and I followed her in. My mouth found her throat while my hand slid under the hem and met bare skin. No underwear. Just the slick warmth of her cunt, already hot for me. She pushed my fingers deeper, grinding against my palm, wet and unashamed. We hit the couch first. I peeled her open and licked her until she shook, thighs clamped around my head, cunt pulsing against my tongue. She tasted raw, greedy. When she came she dragged me up, kissed herself off my lips, and shoved me onto my back. Her tongue was quick, relentless, throat working while I thrust. She never gagged. She swallowed every inch like she needed it, spit coating my cock and her chin. When she climbed on she sank down in one smooth drop, gasping as I filled her. We fucked hard, skin slapping, her ass working in tight circles, milking me deeper each time she dropped. Later she flipped, face buried in the cushions, and took every thrust I gave her. I held her hips, drove all the way in, felt her squeeze and flutter until I spilled inside her, thick and hot, leaking down her thighs.