[ HOT PICS ] Red Hot Christmas.

Sam was sitting on that plush red beanbag, legs spread, her Christmas hat tilted playfully over her loose hair, the fireplace behind her warming the bare skin of her thighs.
“It’s cold,” she whispered though we both knew heat was the last thing missing in that room.

Her pose half-open, bare feet on the rug, thighs apart was shamelessly filthy. But that smile... fuck, that sweet, teasing smile could ruin a man. The kind that makes you beg her not to stop.

The fireplace crackled behind her, but it was Sam’s heat that set me on fire. Her fingers were lazily playing between her own slick lips wet, warm, glistening.

Her voice was rough, dirty. She grabbed your hair, pulling you into her, while your tongue explored the insides of her thighs. You slid one finger in, then another. She was so fucking wet she sucked them in like her pussy was starving.

“More,” she moaned. “Don’t go all soft on me now… fuck my mouth like you mean it.”

You didn’t say a word. Your mouth was busy devouring her pussy, your fingers working that rhythm she craved. Every time you hit that perfect spot, Sam twitched, moaned, and let out something even filthier than before.

The sound of your bodies slamming together filled the room. The Christmas tree shook. The pillows were everywhere. The fireplace blazed even hotter. And she was screaming with every thrust face pressed into the cushions, tits bouncing, your tongue making her cry out like a filthy, happy little slut.

You were grinning like a filthy bastard, loving every second of it.