Rick Kunkler stood in the doorway, watching the couple on the couch. The man had come to him with the usual story—his girlfriend seemed too good, too eager, almost rehearsed. Now Rick saw it for himself. She knelt between the man's spread thighs, her mouth working his cock with practiced ease, tongue gliding along the underside before she took him deeper. Her eyes never left his face. She swallowed him with wet, rhythmic strokes, spit glistening on her lips and his shaft. When she pulled off to catch her breath, a string of saliva stretched from her tongue to his swollen head. She smiled, wiped her mouth, and went right back down, cheeks hollowing as she sucked harder. The man groaned, one hand resting on the back of her head, guiding but never forcing. She adjusted her pace, taking him to the root, throat working around him without a hint of struggle. Rick noted the way she kept her hands behind her back, fingers laced, as if trained to stay out of the way. Every movement looked deliberate, almost scripted. When the man came, she didn't flinch. She swallowed it all, then licked him clean, slow and careful, before tucking him back into his pants and zipping him up. She stood, smoothed her skirt, and smiled at both of them like she'd just served tea. Rick closed his notebook. Perfect, the man had said. Too perfect.
Rick Kunkler stood in the doorway, watching the couple on the couch. The man had come to him with the usual story—his girlfriend seemed too good, too eager, almost rehearsed. Now Rick saw it for himself. She knelt between the man's spread thighs, her mouth working his cock with practiced ease, tongue gliding along the underside before she took him deeper. Her eyes never left his face. She swallowed him with wet, rhythmic strokes, spit glistening on her lips and his shaft. When she pulled off to catch her breath, a string of saliva stretched from her tongue to his swollen head. She smiled, wiped her mouth, and went right back down, cheeks hollowing as she sucked harder. The man groaned, one hand resting on the back of her head, guiding but never forcing. She adjusted her pace, taking him to the root, throat working around him without a hint of struggle. Rick noted the way she kept her hands behind her back, fingers laced, as if trained to stay out of the way. Every movement looked deliberate, almost scripted. When the man came, she didn't flinch. She swallowed it all, then licked him clean, slow and careful, before tucking him back into his pants and zipping him up. She stood, smoothed her skirt, and smiled at both of them like she'd just served tea. Rick closed his notebook. Perfect, the man had said. Too perfect.