She Better Be On Birth Control! Couch-Surfing Stella Fucks Mr Brogan
Title: “Couch-Surfing Stella Fuxes Mr. Brogan: A Babysitter’s Wild Ride”
Couch-surfing twenty-something Stella saunters into the plush living room of the unsuspecting Mr. Brogan, her perky breasts straining against a tight crop top, faded jeans hugging her rounded buttocks. She tosses her backpack on the pristine white sofa, the beast within stirring at the sight of such a ravishing beauty.
Mr. Brogan, a middle-aged divorcee, scrutinizes the buxom babe over his eldritch reading glasses. “Stella, I presume? I’m Brogan, the father. My kids are in bed, and you’re here for babysitting duty. I’ll be back late,” he says in a baritone that would typically command respect. But Stella’s sulfurous charm ignites an inferno of lust within his loins.
“I’ll take real good care of them,” Stella purrs, her deft tongue darting across lush lips. “And you too, if you’re lucky.” Her melodious voice drips with innuendo, piercing Brogan’s resistance like an arrow through a lover’s heart.
Brogan’s eyes rove Stella’s luscious figure, undressing the temptress in his imagination. He bites his lip, feeling his manhood stir within his slacks. “Well, I won’t take too much of your time then. I have an early meeting tomorrow.”
But Stella is not finished with him – she’s only getting started. She slithers closer, her paradise of a posterior swaying hypnotically. “I am more than happy to keep you company, Mr. Brogan,” she whispers, her honeysuckle breath hot against his ear. “There’s no need to rush off. We could get…acquainted first.”
Brogan’s heart pounds a staccato rhythm as Stella’s silkyabenzenze-red lips brush his aging cheeks. He can’t restrain himself any longer – he gropes Stella’s expansive bust, pinching her hardened nipples through her top. She moans like a banshee and shoves him against the wall, their tongues intertwined in a dance of passion.
Soon, they collapse on the sofa, a tangled heap of writhing limbs and quivering flesh. Stella strips off her top and jeans, baring her succulent form for Brogan’s pleasure. She straddles him, her moist quim just inches from his straining cock.
“Stella, we can’t…I thought you were on birthcontrol?” Brogan objects half-heartedly, his penis throbbing with yearning.
Stella grins wickedly and climbs on top him, impaling herself on his rigid staff. “Oh, I am,” she coos. “But no condom is required. You see, birth control doesn’t make me barren, just irresistible. I’m not taking any chances with a man like you.”
Her sopping snatch envelops Brogan’s member, and soon he’s pounding into her with animal ferocity. Stella yowls like a cat in heat, encouraging him to go harder and deeper. The passion in the room is palpable, and it’s not long before Brogan explodes inside Stella’s tight canal with a resounding burst of seed.
Laying spent upon the sofa, a contented smile spreads across Brogan’s weathered face. “That was…sensational,” he rumbles. “But I’m afraid it’ll have to be a one-time thing. I don’t know if I could keep you from getting knocked up for long.”
“Oh Brogan,” Stella giggles, “Don’t you worry. With all the adrenaline pumping through your body right now, there’s no way you’ll make it back to the bedroom tonight. You’re mine for the rest of the night, stud.”
Indeed, Brogan realizes with growing panic and excitement. The lustful babysitter was right – fresh manna is welling in his veins, and his member hardens once more in anticipation of another marathon of passionate intercourse with this untamable temptress.
And so he spends the night feasting upon Stella’s glistening folds, a man possessed, as she screams her pleasure into the starry night. He plunders her red-hot quim to the hilt, grinding his hips against her own, and crafts a symphony of erotic bliss that rocks the very foundations of the mansion.
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