American Buttman In London, Scene #01

Picture this: the bedroom door clicks shut, and there she is, kicking off her heels with a wicked grin. She saunters over, eyes locked on me like I'm the last slice of pizza at the party. Her fingers hook into my belt, yanking it free with a snap that echoes her impatience. I grab her waist, pulling her close—damn, she feels electric. She shoves me back onto the bed, climbing on top, her skirt hiking up to reveal lace that barely qualifies as underwear. My hands roam up her thighs, gripping hard as she grinds down, teasing my growing bulge. 'You want this?' she purrs, nipping my ear. Hell yes. She unzips me slow, then fast—frees my cock, stroking it firm and deliberate. I flip her over, pinning her wrists, diving in with kisses that turn to bites along her neck. Clothes fly off in a frenzy: her blouse rips open, buttons scattering like confetti. Naked now, skin on skin, I slide between her legs, thrusting deep—wet, tight, perfect. She moans loud, nails digging into my back, urging me harder. We roll, switch, fuck like animals till we're both wrecked and grinning.