The week dragged

The week dragged.

We texted every day — sometimes normal stuff, but mostly filthy. She sent me photos in the mornings: mirror selfies in just panties, or bent over showing off that thick ass. I sent her voice notes telling her exactly what I was going to do to her when I got back. By Thursday night she was sending me videos of her touching herself, moaning my name while she came.

Friday after work couldn’t come fast enough.

I pulled up outside her house just after 7pm. The sun was still up, but the backyard was quiet. I walked through the side gate like I belonged there now.

The caravan door opened before I even knocked.

Alice stood there in nothing but a tiny cropped tank top and a pair of very small shorts. Her big tits were barely contained, and she had that same hungry look in her eyes from the first night.

She didn’t say anything at first.

She just grabbed the front of my shirt, pulled me inside, and kicked the door shut behind us.

The second it clicked closed, she was on me — kissing me hard, hands already tugging at my belt. I grabbed her thick ass with both hands and lifted her up, carrying her the few steps to the bed.

We didn’t even make it to getting fully undressed.

I pushed her onto her back, yanked her shorts and panties off in one go, and buried my face between her legs again. She was already soaked. She moaned loudly as I licked her, one hand gripping my hair while the other reached down to squeeze one of her own heavy tits.

“Fuck, I missed this,” she gasped.

I didn’t stop until her thighs were shaking around my head and she came hard on my tongue, just like the first night.

Only then did I stand up, wipe my mouth, and start taking my clothes off properly.

Alice lay there panting, legs still spread, watching me with dark eyes.

“Missed you too,” I said with a smirk.