Hotel room. Quilted bedspread already twisted, wooden chair shoved aside. Beamy blonde in pink top yanked low, massive tits spilling out as she kneels between his suited legs. Cockhead pokes from cleavage, slick with her spit. She presses them together harder, rocking forward. His moustache twitches, hands fisting the sheets. What happens when she leans down to lick the tip mid-thrust? Face flushed, lips bitten raw. She shifts, straddles his thigh, grinding damp shorts against wool pants. Tits bounce free now, nipples grazing his shirt. He grabs her waist, pulls her closer. Room smells like cheap cologne and sweat. Her head tips back, moan caught in throat.