**Twelve Hours in the Southern Heat**

The humid Georgia air clung to my skin as I leaned against the porch railing of my old family home, beer sweating in my hand. Mazzi King had come down for the weekend—said she needed to “get away,” but we both knew what that really meant. She’d been sending me texts for weeks, little teases, pictures of her in lace that barely covered her thick thighs, her tits spilling out. And now she was here, sitting in that rocking chair, barefoot in a sundress, looking at me like I was dinner.

“You gonna just stare at me all night?” she asked, taking a sip of her whiskey. The way her lips wrapped around the glass made my cock twitch.

I set my beer down. “Nah. Thinkin’ ‘bout how loud you’re gonna be once I get you inside.”

She smirked. “Big talk for a man who ain’t touched me yet.”

That was all the fucking invitation I needed.

I grabbed her wrist, yanking her up against me. She gasped, but her hips pushed forward, grinding against the hard bulge in my jeans. I spun her around, shoving her against the wall right there on the porch, hands hiking up her dress. No panties. Of course.

“Fuck, you’re ready,” I growled, slipping a finger between her lips. She was already dripping, her pussy slick and hot when I pushed two fingers deep inside. She whimpered, her ass pressing back against me.

“Inside,” she panted. “Now.”

I didn’t waste time—hauled her over my shoulder, her thighs squeezing my waist as I carried her into the house, kicking the door shut behind us. The second I dropped her on the bed, she was pulling at my belt, freeing my cock. I was already throbbing, pre-cum glistening at the tip.

Mazzi didn’t hesitate. She leaned forward, taking me into her mouth, sucking hard, her tongue swirling around the head before swallowing me deeper. I groaned, fists tangled in her hair as she bobbed, spit dripping down my shaft.

“Enough,” I grunted, dragging her up. I shoved her onto her back, spreading her legs wide. Her pussy was flushed, glistening, clit swollen under my thumb as I rubbed slow circles. She arched, moaning, her nails digging into my arms.

“Need you in me,” she whined.

I gripped my cock, lining up, and then slammed into her in one hard thrust. She screamed, legs locking around my waist as I buried myself to the hilt. Her cunt was tight, pulsing around me, and I didn’t give her time to adjust—just started fucking her hard, deep strokes that had the bed slamming against the wall.

“Fuck, fuck—yes!” Mazzi gasped, her tits bouncing with every thrust. I leaned down, biting her nipple, sucking it hard as I pounded into her. She came fast, her pussy clamping down, wetness spilling between us. But I wasn’t done.

I flipped her over, pulling her up onto her knees. She was still shaking from her orgasm when I pushed back inside, gripping her hips as I fucked her harder, faster. The slap of skin on skin filled the room, her ass reddening under my hands.

“You gonna take it all night?” I growled, spanking her hard.

“Yes—god, yes, don’t stop—”

I didn’t.

We fucked for hours—the bed, the floor, the kitchen counter, the shower. Every time she came, I’d switch it up, make her beg for more. I ate her out until her thighs trembled, pussy sweet on my tongue. She rode me till I saw stars, her tits bouncing as she ground down on my cock.

By the time the sun started creeping up, we were a mess—sweat, cum, her pussy swollen from use, my dick sore but still hard for her.

She collapsed against me, breathless, sticky. I pulled her close, running a hand through her hair as she nuzzled into my chest.

“Told you,” I muttered, kissing her forehead.

She laughed, weak but satisfied. “Twelve hours. You’re insane.”

“And you loved every second.”

She hummed, already half-asleep. “Damn right I did.”

The southern heat had nothing on us.