Moans of pleasure echo from Chris's bedroom. He lies naked on his bed, Isabelle straddling his face, bent forward with his erection between her lips.
She sucks and strokes him eagerly, while he returns the favor, licking her just as passionately, gripping her thighs and ass.
Despite it all, Isabelle is still wearing her tank top.
"Pussies are all the same, but my beautiful, precious boobs are unique! You're not worthy of seeing my masterpieces yet!"
That's what she always tells him.
On the bedside table next to them lies the daily newspaper. The front page reports an attack by a foreign terrorist cell just outside the Bronx. No casualties were reported, only damage to buildings.
"Damn it, Isabelle… you could've at least shaved! My whole tongue's full of hair," Chris complains, spitting.
