She’s a keeper

He finally pulls out, slow, letting the last of it smear across my lower lip. I stay on my knees, chest heaving, spit and cum painting my chin and neck. The dark-haired one lets out a low whistle from the sectional.

"She's a keeper."

I reach up and wipe the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand, then I look at the muscular one, at the phone still pointed at me, and I smile. A slow, dirty, wrecked smile.

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