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Couch Conquest - The pizza box lay discarded on the floor, grease-stained and empty. Mikey licked sauce off April’s collarbone as she straddled his lap on the plush condo couch, the TV flickering with a muted surfing documentary. APRIL: (Grinding against his hardening cock beneath board shorts) "Still hungry, hero?" MIKEY: (Hands sliding under her tank top) "Starving." He nipped her neck. "For you." She yanked his shorts down, freeing his thick length. No preamble—April sank onto him in one fluid motion, gasping as he filled her to the hilt. MIKEY: (Claws digging into couch cushions) "Shell yeah! Right there—" April rode him hard, the rhythm syncopated with crashing waves outside. Sweat glistened on Mikey’s shell as she clenched around him, milking desperate moans from his throat. APRIL: (Panting, pinning his wrists) "Look at me." His eyes—wide, green, vulnerable—locked onto hers. She slowed, rolling her hips in torturous circles. APRIL: "Mine. Even here. Even now." MIKEY: (Voice breaking) "Always yours." When he came, it was with a violent thrust and a grunt—body arching off the couch as he emptied into her. April followed, shuddering, her cry muffled against his neck. They lay tangled in pizza-scented silence, Mikey’s thumb tracing her hipbone. MIKEY: (Dazed, staring at cheese stains on the ceiling) "Best… dinner… ever." April kissed his forehead. "Vacation rule: sex trumps cleanup."
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