Water Under The Bridge

Charlotte was setting up the room when the door swung open and in walked Brad Sterling. Their eyes met and the shock hit both of them at once. Exes. Two years divorced. Brad says he never would’ve booked if he’d known she worked here. They swap a few awkward laughs, admit they were kids when they tied the knot, and figure they’re grown enough to keep it civil. Charlotte still needs to do her job, so she tells him to strip. He does. She does. They step into the shower to get slicked up, water running over ink on her skin and the curves of her big tits. Suds slide between them as old memories spark. Pretty soon hands wander—his, hers, wherever they want. Out on the table she pours the warm gel, presses her petite, inked body over his, sliding tits, belly, and ass across every inch. The slow grind turns into deep kisses, then she takes his cock in her mouth, lips stretched, throat open, taking him to the root. Brad groans, grips her hair, fucks her mouth a little rougher, and she moans like she missed this exact feeling. They stop pretending. She climbs on, sinks down, and they fuck like they never split, hard and slick, until both of them are spent and grinning.