Invisible

Freya Parker leans in, breasts brushing Anton Harden’s arm, and tries to pull his eyes away from the game on the screen. She slips down between his legs, undoes his belt, and frees the thick black shaft that already stiffens at the feel of her hands. Her dark hair falls forward as she opens her mouth and takes the head between her lips, slow at first, then deeper, tongue working every inch. She keeps her bush trimmed neat, thighs parted just enough to show it while she sucks. Anton stays still except for the hand that drops to her head and pushes her lower. She gags once, recovers, and swallows more. His breathing changes when the game fades in the background. Freya pulls off, strokes the wet length, and looks up at him, lips shiny. He stands, bends her over the couch, and drives in hard. Her breath catches with every thrust. She grips the cushions and pushes back, taking it deeper until his pace breaks and he pulls out. Thick ropes land across her ass and lower back, hot and heavy. She stays bent, breathing hard, skin marked with his release, while the room goes quiet except for the low hum of the television.