Cleaning the mess

After licking her fingers like if they were covered with tasty hot sauce, she leans back on you and start cleaning your dick with her tongue. With her crafty work with her mouth, it doesn't take long before you're hard again. She stops there and look back at you, licking her lips with appetite.

"It seems you can go for another round." She says, pulling down her panties. "What do you think if we help each others getting off of the steam ?"

"Well, at this point, I can at least do that." You tell her.

She makes a big smile and push you on the couch as she stand up. She then get on her knees on top of your head and press her now wet pussy on your mouth. You expected sex, but she's a kinky redhead, she'll always do more !

Your tongue rubs against her clit and you start sucking her hooded cherry, both your hands massage her butt cheeks and you feel her tits pressing against your belly. Soon after, she continue her work on your cock as you do your part between her legs. Both of you makes muffled moans with the rising pleasure. Your face is completely covered with moist and you feel your dick going deeper and deeper in her mouth, the tip being even swallowed eagerly. You play like this for an unknown amount of time, but it feels great and yet like an eternity. Until finally, her moaning fasten and hips start shaking. Even more moist run down your cheeks and chin as yourself can't take it any longer and release a second salve of cum in your neighbor mouth.

After that she stays a moment on top of you shaking again from time to time, and she finally release you from her tight prison still breath fast.

"That was great love..." She says. "We should definitively do that again."

You stand up, still a little bit weak from the two great orgasms and the mouth sore from the pleasure you gave.

"Yeah definitively. Can I use your bathroom before I go ?" You ask

"Sure, the door, right there."

"Thanks"

You go clean your face and rod, before putting your clothes back into something that looks at least a little bit civil.

As you leave, she's cleaning the tea. And you tell her goodbye.

In the corridor, Mr. Asshole, because he never told you his name, pushes you on the side with his classic "move, kid !"

He's a forty-five-ish years old man who's going way too much at the gym, almost a head taller than you and probably almost twice your weight. He always acts like some high-school jock, probably because it has always been his best years, and work in car retail.

You grab the gun in your back pocket and point it at him with a clear thought.