Wrapping it Up - For Now

The room was a wreck.

Cushions off-balance, streaks of drying cum tracing across the couch and splattered on the carpet like a crime scene no one would dare mop.

The wineglass they’d used as her tasting cup lay sideways on the floor — a cloudy swirl of leftover white clinging to the bottom.

And Sandra?

She sprawled there like a ruined painting someone had jerked off on just for fun.

Her hair was a damp, wild mess, streaks of drying white sticking strands to her neck and cheek. Her thighs were parted wide — inside of them glistening with faint pearl trails, still warm in the glow of the TV. And the CUMSLUT choker dug into her throat, now half-twisted, a filthy little brand soaked like everything else.

She grinned, eyes half-shut, tongue peeking out to catch a drip that slid off her bottom lip.

Andy tossed her the towel with a smirk.

“You planning to just marinate in that or…?”

She flicked her tongue slow — that playful, cocky gleam back in her eyes.

“Are you complaining about your own masterpiece?”

He dropped onto the arm of the couch beside her, the towel limp in his hand.

“Not complaining. Just saying the couch looks like a biohazard.”

She snorted, shifting so the mess between her thighs glistened in the TV flicker.

“Please. This couch knew what it was getting into.”

Andy leaned forward, dabbing her tits with the towel — each swipe pulling up a sticky line that she watched, fascinated.

“You’re lucky I’m obsessed with you.”

She licked her lips, rolling her eyes up at him.

“You’re lucky I swallow like it’s a job I’d never quit.”

He barked a laugh, but his cock twitched — half-hard already, twitching lazily as she dipped two fingers under her tit, scraped up a faint swirl, and licked it with an exaggerated moan.

________________________________________

Andy grabbed the remote and flipped the TV to an old clip: Sandra at some family function, modest saree, gold studs in her ears, hair pinned tight. Sweet, shy smile. Eyes downcast.

The screen glowed in the wrecked living room like a cruel inside joke.

“Remember her?” Andy said, voice low.

Sandra leaned back, thighs still parted wide, cum drying like a filthy signature on her soft skin. She tilted her head, grinned — her red hair matted to her cheek, the CUMSLUT choker now streaked white where a fat drop clung in the groove of the leather.

“Oh… her.”

She flicked her tongue across her lip, catching a stray drip.

“She used to whimper when you kissed her forehead in public.”

Andy clicked again — the next frozen frame: Sandra tonight. Kneeling, mouth open, eyes rolled back, wineglass balanced under her chin while ropes of cum glazed her like dessert.

“And here’s Exhibit B,” he muttered. “One’s got a PhD. The other’s got cum in her eyelashes.”

Sandra wheezed out a soft, filthy laugh — her voice cracked but proud.

“They both swallow,” she rasped, dragging two fingers along the edge of her choker. She scooped up that drop, flicked it onto her tongue, then sucked it clean with a purr.

“Mmm… tastes better off leather,” she moaned. She flicked the choker again.

“Who knew my sweet ‘good girl’ collar would turn into a protein bib? Think this leather ever thought it’d get this soaked?”

Andy’s cock twitched at that — half-hard already, his grin mean and bright.

“You used to lecture about anatomy with your mouth,” he rasped.

“Now you lecture my cock with your throat.”

Sandra licked her lower lip, winked — voice low and smug:

“Character development, baby. Real deep learning.”

________________________________________

They sprawled in the wreckage — bodies sticky, the couch a ruin, the wineglass empty and smudged on the floor.

Sandra traced a lazy swirl through a drying line of cum on her belly, scraped it up, then dragged it across her nipple like she was frosting herself. She sucked it slow, rolling her eyes up at him.

“You used to call cum unsanitary.”

She dragged her fingers lower, scooped another drop from her thigh, licked it off.

“Now I call it breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

Andy leaned in, kissed her shoulder — tasted the faint, sharp salt.

“You used to cover that throat in pearls.”

She rolled her eyes, flicked her choker again — the soaked leather gleaming.

“Now it’s my protein collar. Better than any necklace you ever bought.”

________________________________________

She sat up, straddling his lap, smearing the mess between her thighs all over his cock, teasing him back to life with a lazy grind.

“You used to say, ‘Let’s keep it clean tonight.’”

She leaned close — her tits pressed to his chest, still glistening, faint streaks oozing between them like filthy icing.

“Now you tell me to hold a wineglass while you hose me down.”

Andy barked out a low laugh — breathless, hard again, obsessed.

“You used to blush when you caught me staring at your tits.”

Sandra cupped them, squeezed — a fresh glisten leaking out between her fingers.

“Now they’re your napkins.”

She brushed her lips to his ear — voice soft, filthy, proud.

“You used to want me polite.”

Her hips rocked harder, his cock trapped under her, twitching back to life.

“Now you’ve got me planning a gangbang while your cum’s drying on my ass.”

________________________________________

She leaned back, dragged two fingers under her breast again — that faint creamy swirl catching the TV light — then sucked them clean with a tiny, smug hum.

“Look at her now…” she whispered, glancing at the ghost on the TV — shy Sandra in her saree — then back to the dripping reflection tonight.

“Wearing your load like a face mask. Gargling it for dinner.”

Andy pressed his lips to her jaw — voice rough and adoring.

“You miss her?”

Sandra laughed — a breathless, filthy snort.

“Not even a little.”

She crawled forward, lips brushing his ear, hips rolling slow.

“That shy girl used to gasp ‘Oh god’ when you kissed her forehead.”

She nipped his throat, her voice a hot whisper.

“Now I moan it when I’m throat-fucked — your load dripping down my tits, filling me like your private cum buffet.”

Andy’s laugh turned into a growl — his cock now fully awake under her slick thighs.

She smirked — voice low, dripping honeyed filth.

“All that’s left is your cum-hungry, dick-drunk house whore.”

Andy’s breath hitched — his hand knotted in her messy hair.

“You should be proud,” she purred.

“You trained me better than I ever trained my grad students.”

She snorted, brushing her lips to his.

“You ruined me, you know that?”

“Perfectly,” Andy whispered, tracing her jaw with his thumb.

“All that’s left is your cum-hungry, dick-drunk house whore.”

Andy groaned — cock twitching back to life.

Sandra kissed the corner of his mouth, her lips still tasting faintly like him.

“You should be proud,” she whispered, voice warm and wicked.

“You trained me better than I ever trained my grad students.”

________________________________________

They fell back on the couch, both laughing, exhausted and sticky and still so full of it all.

Sandra licked one last trail from the inside of her thigh, her eyes closing like she was savoring the world’s filthiest dessert.

“You know what’s next?” she whispered.

Andy grinned.

“Industrial disinfectant?”

She bit his lip — playful, sharp.

“No. More. Start edging. Next time…”

She sat up, cum crusting on her choker like an obscene gem.

“Next time I want that glass overflowing.”