The Scrumptious Of Columbus

Scarlett Mae opens her front door with that knowing smirk. You're in Columbus to close on a house, cash offer, and she’s been your agent through the whole thing. The second you step inside she gives you the tour like it’s nothing special, then slides the paperwork across the table. She’s checking you out the whole time—shoulders, jaw, the way the suit sits on you. When she asks for your passport and sees the FuckPassVR stamp page, her eyes light up. “No Columbus stamp yet,” she says, already moving behind you to loosen your tie. “I can fix that right now.” She straddles your lap, pops open her blouse and spills those heavy tits into your hands. You suck and bite while she grinds down on your cock through your pants. The tie comes off, your shirt follows, and she drops to her knees, fishes your dick out and swallows it in one smooth motion, tongue dragging along the underside before she takes you to the back of her throat. Spit runs down your balls. She gags once, smiles around the shaft, and keeps going. Minutes later she’s bent over the table, skirt hiked, panties shoved aside. You slam into her, the whole room filling with the sound of skin on skin and her sharp little moans. She pushes back, begging you to wreck her, so you do—deep, fast, rough—until her pussy is dripping down her thighs. She flips onto her back, legs wide, and you paint her tits and stomach with thick ropes, leaving a hot, messy mark across that flawless body. Columbus stamp: officially collected.