Mom Professor Whore
Copyright© 2026 by SindeeM
Chapter 6: Elizabeth the Pimp, Patti Gets Deflowered
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 6: Elizabeth the Pimp, Patti Gets Deflowered - Book 1 of a continuing story of a woman who is Dean of Ethics and Professor at a University, a mother of two that is blackmailed into becoming a high priced whore. This chronicles how seemmingly normal people are slowly corrupted. This also exposes how public lives can be so different than private lives. Really f***d up relationships are also on display here. There is corporal punishment, heavy sex, non-consensual sex, humiliation, lesbian, interracial, double penetration, slavery.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Blackmail Coercion NonConsensual Rape Reluctant Lesbian BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction BDSM MaleDom FemaleDom Humiliation Light Bond Rough Spanking Interracial Anal Sex Analingus Cream Pie Double Penetration Facial Oral Sex Tit-Fucking Prostitution
Dominic watched Elizabeth as she walked into his office. She came directly from campus. The woman who entered was Dr. Elizabeth Collins, Dean of Ethics and Philosophy. She had on her academic uniform of a conservatively tailored blouse and skirt.
Dominic’s assistant, Sofia Romano, sat against the wall. She was absorbed in her tablet. She offered no greeting and no acknowledgment of Elizabeth’s presence.
Dominic felt a glow inside himself.
Thinking to himself, “Elizabeth is giving a lecture at one of her nonprofits where she’s a board member. She’s going to lecture the do-gooders about personal responsibility and moral courage. The hypocrisy is a fucking delicacy. I’m about to feast.”
Elizabeth caught the predatory gleam in his eyes as she approached his desk.
“What the hell was he up to this time? She wondered.
Elizabeth looked at Sofia. “Hello, Sofia.”
Sofia’s head lifted. A single, bored nod was her only reply before her eyes dropped back to her tablet.
Dominic, ever the picture of old-world charm, rose from his leather chair. He rounded the desk and pulled out the seat opposite his own. It was a gesture of mock gallantry.
Dominic said in his ever-calm and cool voice, “Vesper. So good to see you again.”
Elizabeth let a chill go down her spine. She shot him a glare as she saw the evil grin on his face.
The war erupted once again in Elizabeth’s head.
Elizabeth recoiled and wanted to vomit. She thought of all the disgusting, morally degrading things he had already made her do. All to protect her family and professional life.
She saw him for what he was. A predator in a tailored suit. A gangster who defined success by corrupting anything pure and decent. He was a walking, talking moral sewer. Every word he spoke was a way to drag her down into his filth.
He didn’t want a woman. He wanted a broken thing he could call Vesper, who was a slut and a whore, to perform his twisted little plays. She wanted to spit in his face. Claw his eyes out. Scream until the glass walls of his pristine office shattered.
Vesper purred. She arched her back inside their shared mind. She felt the thrill of his gaze on her skin. She saw the same man, but through a different lens. Vesper saw the raw power that radiated from him. The memory of the passionate boy he had been was replaced by the cold, calculating bastard who owned people’s secrets. That was what made her cunt wet.
Vespe saw him as a force of nature. Vesper wanted him. She wanted to be bent over this desk, fucked raw and used, and be his partner in depravity and lust. Oh, the wicked, delicious things he would have her do. The thought was a jolt of electricity.
Dominic saw the flicker of the battle in Elizabeth’s eyes. He saw the flash of hate followed by the slow, subtle softening of surrender. It was the most goddamn beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
Dominic leaned back in his leather chair. He looked at his whore. He didn’t see Dr. Collins, the person that got him tossed out of academia on so-called ethics violations. He saw Vesper, his whore, whom he could use to build his empire.
“How much is a virgin asshole worth, Professor? Domnic asked.
Elizabeth tilted her head slightly. She knew there was some nefarious scheme he had in mind.
Dominic continued, “How much is that virgin asshole worth if it’s the wife of a TV evangelist?
Elizabeth squinted. “Patti?”
Dominic grinned. “We have a special request, Professor. Your favorite kind of hypocrites.”
He let the words hang in the air. “James and Patti. The TV evangelists. The “Sanctified Couple” that you personally took down the path of debauchery and immorality.”
He chuckled, “It seems that Patti, the clinically clean evangelist wife, is not the only one in their marriage that has a fantasy.” The good reverend has a dark secret. He wants to watch his precious, pure wife get fucked by a well-hung stud. A cuckolding session.”
Vesper felt a twitch in her cunt.
Elizabeth remained calm and professional.
Dominic continued waving a dismissive hand. “They want discretion, of course. They can’t have their flock knowing the shepherd’s wife is a size queen who gets off on humiliating her husband. That’s where you come in. You orchestrate this. Every detail.”
Elixabeth understood this was the point he was making with her. The humiliation and depravity he would put her through.
Dominic leaned forward with his smile widening and showed the edge of his teeth.
“Think about it, Elizabeth. You, the dean of the Ethics Department, are now the madam arranging for a stranger to fuck a married woman and have her virgin asshole deflowered. You’re the one actively corrupting them. You’re turning their sacred vows into a cheap, tawdry fuck show for profit. How does that make you feel? To be the architect of their fall from grace?”
For Dominic, forcing her to orchestrate this kind of carnal event was the same as forcing her to spread her legs for those power-hungry high rollers he was selling her body to.
Sofia looked up at Dominic and Elizabeth. She knew that humiliating Elizabeth was what really got Dominic off. She also saw the desire that flashed across Elizabeth’s face.
Sofia thought to herself, “Damn, he just fucks with her. She gets off on it almost as much as he does. They should just go get a room.”
Elizabeth sighed. “It’s a job that you’re forcing me to do. What are my options?”
Dominic laughed. It was a genuine, booming sound this time. “That’s my girl.”
He slid a thin tablet across the desk. “I’ve pulled three files. All vetted, all clean, and all very well equipped. They all have a particular fetish for using the wives of lesser men. Review them. Pick the bull. I want your recommendation by morning.”
Elizabeth replied. “Sure. I have a lecture to do this afternoon, so I’ll get the recommendation to you later this evening.
Elizabeth looked at Dominic with a glare. “Is there anything else my pimp needs?”
Dominic felt that familiar warmth of revenge. He wondered if the pleasure of degrading his onetime lover and the destroyer of his academic career was ever going to go away.
He got up and offered his hand to help her up. “Not right now, Professor.”
Elizabeth picked up the tablet. She stood up, straightened her skirt, and looked at him, thinking, “You’re never going to drag me down into the sewer, you disgusting sewer rat.”
Vesper couldn’t wait to get started, thinking, “Let’s blow off the lecture and get to the new assignment.”
Elizabeth thought she had won this time as she walked out the door with what was left of her dignity.
After Elizabeth left, Sofia looked over at Dominic and then shook her head.
Dominic looked back at Sofia. In a cool tone he said, “It’s business, Sofia, not a personal pleasure.”
“Yeah right,” she scoffed and went back to her tablet.
The drive from Dominic’s downtown office to the community center was only a few miles but felt like an eternity. She could still see the faces and stats of the men she was supposed to choose for Patti from the tablet. Each one of them would fuck Patti in a different way both mentally and physically.
He told her to pick the man, the cock, the tool to defile the marriage of the TV evangelist couple.
Elizabeth thought to herself. “Vesper, you fucking whore. Look what you’ve done to us.”
How could she, Dr. Elizabeth Collins, do this? She was a mother. She taught Kant and Mill. She was the flag bearer for all that was moral and ethical. She believed that moral fortitude and ethical self-responsibility were the foundation of a civilized society.
How can she, as the Dean of Ethics, pontificate about moral virtues and then turn around and become a pimp for televangelists? The thought was so absurd it almost made her laugh.
But then the voice of Vesper came in.
“But think of the power, Lizzy. Think of it. We’re not just a piece of meat to be fucked this time. We’re directors. We’re the one pulling the strings. We choose the cock. We set the stage. We get to watch the whole beautiful, filthy show unfold. We get the best seat in the house. Doesn’t that make you wet?
Elizabeth squeezed her thighs together. She felt the stirring in her cunt. She hated Vesper. She hated the part of her that felt a thrill and excitement at the thought of orchestrating such a wanton act of lust and sex.
The Sanctified Couple. She remembered Patti’s wide, innocent eyes as she’d guided her through her first steps into submission. The way she’d blushed and then bloomed under the attention.
James, the reverend, with his practiced, sincere smile and his hungry, covetous gaze. He wanted to see his wife taken by another man. He wanted to participate in his own cuckolding. to sit there and watch another man fuck his wife.
It was depraved. It was sick.
Vesper whispered, “It’s hot.” Imagine his face. The good Reverend, watching his Patti, his ‘gift from God,’ getting split open by a stranger’s huge, thick cock. Imagine the shame and the lust all mixed up on his face. We’re not just a whore, Dr. Collins. We’re what they preach to others to avoid. We’re their devil.”
Elizabeth pulled into the parking lot of the community center. It was a drab building dedicated to uplifting the city’s youth. She killed the engine and sat for a moment. Her hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles were white. In the rearview mirror she saw the face of a woman that was selling her existence as a moral pillar of the community. She took a deep breath and forced the mask back into place. Dr. Collins. The Dean. The moral compass.
She smoothed her skirt, adjusted her blouse, and practiced a small, serene smile in the mirror.
The small auditorium was already filling with the well-meaning volunteers, social workers, and earnest-faced college students. They greeted her with warmth and respect.
“Dr. Collins! So glad you could make it!” “We’re so honored to have you.”
Each compliment felt like a needle prick against her skin. She smiled, nodded, and made her way to the small stage at the front of the room. She stood behind the lectern. Her notes were placed before her. The title of her lecture, which was projected on the screen behind her, read “Moral Courage in a Compromised World: Living an Authentic Life.”
The hypocrisy was evident. Were there other people in the crowd that could see through the veil of secrecy?
She cleared her throat. The room fell silent with all eyes were on her. She looked out at their faces, so full of hope and belief in the good. She was about to lie to every single one of them.
“Good afternoon,” she began. Her voice was steady and clear. the familiar academic tone she had honed over decades.
“Thank you for having me. Today, I want to talk about a concept that is increasingly rare in our modern landscape. Integrity.”
She paused for a moment. Integrity. The sound of the word coming out of her mouth was so disingenuous.
Elizabeth continued. “Integrity is not merely about knowing the difference between right and wrong. It’s about the courage to choose the right path, even when it is difficult, even when it’s costly. It’s about the alignment of your inner values with your outer actions. It’s about being one person, whole and undivided, in the light and in the dark.”
As she spoke, Vesper laughed inside her. “Undivided? Oh, Lizzy, you’re a masterpiece of division. You’re a walking paradox. A holy whore.”
Elizabeth’s grip on the lectern tightened. She pushed through shutting out Vesper.
Elizabeth saw a young woman in the front row who was nodded earnestly and who had her notebook open, taking notes.
Elizabeth shook off the feeling of hypocrisy and continued.
“We’re all tested. We’re all faced with moments where our principles are challenged by powerful forces. By greed, by lust, by fear. By the desire for power or the need to protect what we hold dear.”
She thought of Dominic’s smile. Of the tablet with its menu of bulls. Of the sanctimonious face of Reverend James Sterling. She was protecting her children, her career, her entire life. But in doing so, she was shattering the very foundation of everything she claimed to believe in.
“A person without integrity is a house built on sand. There’s a strong façade that faces the outside world, but inside, that person is crumbling. They’re a collection of contradictions, a performance for an audience they secretly despise. They become architects of their own spiritual decay, building a life not on truth but on a series of shameful compromises.”
A wave of dizziness washed over her. She was describing herself and Vesper at the same time. She was trying to use herself as a cautionary tale.
But Vesper was stronger now. “Don’t stop, you magnificent hypocrite. You’re brilliant. Look at them, drinking it in. They love you. They love the lie. Tell them more. Tell them how good it feels to be bad. Tell them how freeing it is to finally let go of all that tedious morality.”
She finished with, “So I ask you to look inside yourselves. To ask the hard questions. To find the strength to live an authentic life. To be whole. To be true.”
The applause was enthusiastic. She stood there and basked in it. The two warring selves feeling differently. Elizabeth felt the shame and the deep weight of her deception. Vesper felt the power of standing in the light and telling the most beautiful, damning lie she had ever told.
Elizabeth packed up her notes. She shook a few hands, offered a few tight, practiced smiles, and walked to her car.
She didn’t go home. She couldn’t. She had to now be the pimp. She had to pick a well-hung stud to fuck Patti and let her husband, the TV evangelist, watch.
The thought of facing her children, her house, and the life she was trying to protect was too much. Instead, she drove to a hotel bar on the edge of the city. She didn’t realize it, but the hotel was a known gathering place for the local working girls.
She ordered a whiskey rather than her usual glass of wine. The burn as it slid down her throat was a punishment for what she was about to do. She placed Dominic’s tablet on the bar. The three faces stared back at her.
Cheerfully, Vesper said, “Let’s get to work. This isn’t just picking a cock. This is hand-picking the instrument of their moral corruption.”
Elizabeth took another swallow of whiskey, hoping the burn would wash Vesper away.
She opened the first file and reviewed the information in the file. She then started to create her assessment.
Candidate A: Julian Croft.
The Persona: The Architect. A man in his late 40s. He’s well-toned with a precise hair cut where no hair is ever out of place. He’s handsome and has a collection of fine, tailored suits and casual clothes. He has a monster ego.
He’s a venture capitalist who built his fortune on hostile takeovers. He sees cuckolding as the ultimate corporate transaction. He has perfected the art of the hostile takeover of the wife from her husband. The husband can agree or not agree. The end result is the same. He uses the wife for his own pleasure.
He has a clinical detachment that allows him to ruthlessly execute his takeover of the wife’s body. He’s cold and detached, so there is no emotional or psychological component in his actions.
He would fuck Patti with the same analytical precision he’d use to dismantle a company. He would use and desecrate every part of her body. He would get great pleasure from explaining to James the methodical process and biological mechanics of how he was fucking Patti and making her beg to be his slut. He would make Patti’s body respond like she was a sex-starved whore whether she wanted to or not.
“Disgusting,” Elizabeth whispered.
He’d analyze her orgasms and explain how and why he could give her those sensations that her husband could not. He would leave her used and wanting more of the passion that James could never give her.
Vesper countered. “Oh, but isn’t it perfect, Lizzy? He wouldn’t just fuck her. He’d dissect her marriage, right there in front of her husband. He would break her down with logic, with cold, hard facts. He’d make James understand exactly why he was inadequate. It’s not just cuckolding. It’s an evisceration of their marriage and core beliefs. We’re not just selling a fuck. We’re selling a lesson in superiority.
Elizabeth shuddered, repulsed yet intrigued. She swiped to the next file.
Candidate B: Mateo Vargas.
The Persona: The Bull. Early 30s. A former professional athlete turned luxury real estate agent. He had intense eyes, a solid square jaw, and a body that looked like he ate barbells for breakfast.
His profile was simple. He’s primal energy, muscle, and animalistic charisma. He doesn’t want to talk. He wants to conquer. He has no fetishes. He gets off on the sheer physical act of overpowering the female. This was the modern equivalent of the Alpha caveman dragging the female to the cave to breed her.
He’d treat her like a piece of meat. There’s no art, no subtlety. Just pure fucking. He would make Patti understand that emotions have no place in the male/female relationship. He would make her worship his cock. He would not say a word to James, but words would not be needed. James would be reduced to a broken beta boy spectator.
Vesper responded, “That’s the beauty of it. It’s primal and honest. No games, no pretense. Just the raw truth of the flesh. Imagine Patti, that delicate religious little flower, being brutally fucked. Imagine the look on James’s face when he realizes that all his sermons, all his prayers, mean nothing when his wife is overtaken by pure lust and animalistic sex.
Elizabeth felt a familiar, unwelcome throb between her legs. The image of a huge thick cock in Patti’s tight cunt made her wet.
She picked the folder for the final candidate.
Candidate C: Silas Dubois.
The Persona: The Artist. A man in his late 30s. A renowned sculptor and painter. Very handsome and muscular. He was the most dangerous. He saw himself as an artist and the wife as his medium. He wouldn’t just fuck her. He would craft an experience. He would seduce her mind first. He would then shatter that illusion with a brutal fuck that would leave her emotionally and physically drained. He was rumored to do much work for the Church.
His profile was the most disturbing. He didn’t just want to fuck. He wanted to create and destroy. He wanted to seduce not just Patti’s body but her mind as well to give her a taste of an experience her marriage could never provide. He would turn from lover to devil with a fuck so brutal and intense it would leave her wondering what good from bad really was.
Elizabeth said in her mind. “No. This is the worst one. He’s a predator of the heart. He wouldn’t just break her body. He’d break her spirit. He’d make her crave him long after he’s gone. That could destroy their marriage from the inside out. It’s cruel. It’s unforgivable.”
Vesper replied. “It’s perfect, Lizzy. The other two are just about the sex. Julian is cold and clinical. Mateo is a butcher. But Silas is an artist. He wouldn’t just give them a night of depravity. He’d give them a trip to the hell they have been preaching about. He’d give James a memory of his wife looking at another man with a hunger he could never satisfy. He’d give Patti an experience with a true Alpha taking her body and mind. We’re not just arranging a cuckolding. We’re the orchestrator of their journey to depravity.
Elizabeth stared at the three faces. The cold logician, the primal beast, the demonic artist. Each one a different flavor of damnation.
She closed her eyes. The whiskey did little to numb the ache. Dominic told her to be the architect of their fall. He told her to choose the tool. The bastard was still making her work for him now as a pimp instead of as the whore spreading her legs. She was still his whore, though.
A wicked smile spread across her lips. It was Vesper’s smile, but Elizabeth wore it now. She knew which one to choose. It wasn’t about what was best for the clients. It wasn’t about what was most discreet. It was about what would please Dominic the most. It was about what would create the most beautiful, catastrophic wreckage.
She picked up her phone, calling Dominic.
Her voice was confident. “Dominic. I’ve made my recommendation.”
“Already, Professor? I’m impressed,” he replied.
“It’s Silas Dubois, the Artist,” she said.
There was a pause on the other end of the line. She could almost feel his grin through the phone.
“The Artist,” he repeated softly. “Vesper, you never cease to disappoint. A truly inspired choice.”
She swirled the whiskey in her glass and took a swig. “I thought so. He won’t just fuck her, Dominic. He’ll ruin her. He’ll ruin them both. And he’ll make them thank him for it.”
She hung up the phone and finished her drink. The war was over. The hypocrite and the whore had finally merged into one. Dr. Elizabeth Collins, Dean of Ethics, had just made her first professional recommendation as a pimp and madam.
She closed the lid on the tablet. The whiskey had given her a warm, comfortable glow. She was Vesper for the moment.
A man had settled onto the barstool two seats down while she was lost in her decision. He was handsome in a suburban kind of way. He was clean-shaven and someone Elizabeth would relate to very well. He’d been chatting with the bartender, a muscular man named Leo.
The man at the bar was looking at her. Leo the bartender came over to Elizabeth as he polished a glass with a practiced motion. “The gentleman at the end of the bar would like to buy you a drink, ma’am,” he said.
Vesper smiled.
“Tell him I’d love another whiskey and thank him for me.”
She winked, and Leo showed a flicker of understanding. He nodded and moved away.
He returned and set her drink down. He leaned against the bar.
“Haven’t seen you in here before,” he said as he walked towards the man at the end of the bar who was now sipping his drink and trying to act casual.
“Just wanted to let you know I can handle any unwanted advances. Keep things smooth.”
He paused for a few seconds. “The girls usually gave me a tip to be their bouncer, their filter, and their protection.
Vesper felt a thrill shoot through her. She hadn’t intended on working tonight, but why the hell not? She’d just sold her soul to arrange a session of depravity. What was one more transaction? What was one more cock? It was just business.
Surprisingly, Elizabeth agreed. I’m Dominic’s whore, not his damned pimp. She wanted to prove that she was a whore and only whore, not a pimp.
“What’s the standard tip?” she asked.
Leo replied. “Ten percent of the take. For that, I can line them up for you. Vet them. Make sure they’re not trouble.”
She extended her hand with manicured fingers closing over his. “We have a deal,” she said, smiling.
She turned her attention back to the man. He took the bait and slid onto the stool beside her.
The man said with a crack to his voice. “Hi. I’m Tom.”
“Vesper,” she replied. She placed a hand on his thigh, feeling the muscle twitch beneath the fabric of his trousers.
“You look a little lost, Tom. Long day?”
He flushed and felt a flush on his face. “Yeah. Sales call. I’m in town for the night. Just ... you know.” He gestured vaguely.
“Mmm, I know exactly,” she purred.
She leaned in so her breath was hot against his ear. “A man like you, away from home, all that stress building up. You need some distraction, some personal comfort, don’t you, baby? A little release to help you sleep.”
He smiled. “As a matter of fact, that would be great. Those people I have to deal with are so unreasonable and just don’t listen to what a great product we have. They say they’re ready to give us the purchase order, and then they delay. I’ve got a family to support...”
He stopped and suddenly wondered why he was talking about his family when he was talking to a hooker.
Vesper by this time knew he was nervous and was not sure how to proceed. She took a sip of her whiskey. “I know what you mean. I have two kids, one in college that I pay for. It gets really stressful handling the home front and the business front.”
He seemed to loosen up. “Yeah, I have the same thing. Two kids in college and one going this fall. The pressure of closing these deals is pretty tough sometimes.”
Vesper took the chance to get to the point. “I know how you feel, Tom.”
She pressed closer to him. “There’s nothing wrong with letting go of some of that tension and frustration.”
She put her hands on his shoulders and startet to rub. She felt the tension in his body.
He looked at her and said, “Oh, that feels good. You know I’ve never done this before. I ... uh ... I’m married and...”
She pressed her finger to his lips. “None of that matters right now, Tom. You’re here. I’m here. I can help you relax and burn off that tension. Nobody will ever know.”
“You don’t seem to be the type of person that is a ... well...”
Vesper now was definitely in charge.
“A whore?”
She laughed. “That’s all just stereotyping. We’re consenting adults here, Tom. I think you’re cute. You have commitments to your wife and kids. That’s admirable. I can tell that. I have the same situation. My family is important, and I do what I can to provide for them. So if I’m a whore for taking care of my kids, then so be it.”
He was amazed that he was having this type of conversation with a whore.
She leaned in and nibbled on his ear. “Let’s go upstairs and get rid of some of that tension, Tom?
She put her hand on his thigh. “Hang on a second. I need to talk to the bartender real quick.”
She excused herself, sliding off the stool and sashaying to the end of the bar where Leo was polishing glasses. “What’s the going rate for a guy like this?” she asked.
Leo looked at her. “For a classy piece of ass like you? Five hundred for a half hour. Eight hundred for the hour. He looks like he’ll pop in ten minutes, so quote him the hour. Easy money.”
She walked back toward Tom with her hips swaying. She took his hand again, lacing her fingers through his.
“I can help you with all that stress, Tom. I can make you forget all about your sales call and the family pressure for a little while.”
She leaned in close, her lips brushing his earlobe. “Let’s go to your room.”
His breath hitched. “How ... how much?”
“Eight hundred for an hour,” she said. Her voice was firm and clear.
“And you can cum as many times as you want. I’ll make sure you get your money’s worth.”
He just nodded. He was completely mesmerized. They stopped by the ATM in the lobby, and the machine spit out the cash.
Inside his room, he fumbled with the envelope. His hands shook as he passed it to her. She took the crisp bills.
Elizabeth felt like such a fucking whore. The feeling made her cunt pulse.
Vesper now took over. She put the envelope in her purse.
“Alright, Tom. Time for Vesper to take care of you.”
She pointed to the chair. He sat down with his eyes fixated on Vesper.
She took off her conservative blazer. She slowly unbuttoned her blouse and revealed a black shelf bra. She shimmied out of her skirt. She stood before him in her heels, the thong, and the shelf bra that pushed her tits up and out.
She straddled his lap and then sank down, gyrating her hips. She reached around and unhooked her bra. Her big, natural tits fell out. Her rock-hard, pierced nipples pointed outward.
She licked her lips. “Go ahead, squeeze them.”
Tom didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed her tits and squeezed the full fleshy mounds of tit flesh.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
His eyes were wide. He pinched her nipples and then leaned in and sucked on her big hard nipples.
Vesper moaned, thinking, “It never fails, Men are so mesmerized by big tits.”
She stood up, leaned down, and took off his shoes. She then unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, and pulled his pants off. She smiled and ran her hands up and down the outline of his cock in his undershorts.
She licked her lips and smiled. She bent down and used her teeth to pull his undershorts off. His cock sprang to life, standing straight up.
She stood up and turned around. She bent forward and pulled her thong off. She looked back at Tom, then pulled her ass cheeks apart, giving him a full view of her wet cunt and tight, puckered asshole.
“Oh my God” was all he could say.
She knelt down in front of him. She looked him in the eyes and then wrapped her lips around the head of his cock. She gently fondled his balls.
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