Jamie Summers
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Jamie Summers shot her first hardcore scene on camera when she turned eighteen. Tall, slender, blue-eyed and bottle-blonde, she signed with Vivid right away. The studio dressed her in pigtails and knee socks and let her play the spoiled princess no one could tell no. In those Brat films she threw tantrums, demanded gifts, then dropped to her knees with a wicked little grin, lips wet, eyes daring the man to punish her. She’d bend over furniture with her panties yanked aside, asking for it harder, louder, deeper, until the camera caught every glistening inch sliding in and out of her. Between her eighteenth and twenty-fifth birthdays she starred in more than fifty features, riding cocks, swallowing loads, spreading herself wide for whoever the script placed in front of her. At twenty-five she walked away without fanfare, leaving behind a tidy stack of shiny plastic cases and an audience still hungry for that bratty, pink-lipped smirk.
Jamie Summers
Jamie Summers shot her first hardcore scene on camera when she turned eighteen. Tall, slender, blue-eyed and bottle-blonde, she signed with Vivid right away. The studio dressed her in pigtails and knee socks and let her play the spoiled princess no one could tell no. In those Brat films she threw tantrums, demanded gifts, then dropped to her knees with a wicked little grin, lips wet, eyes daring the man to punish her. She’d bend over furniture with her panties yanked aside, asking for it harder, louder, deeper, until the camera caught every glistening inch sliding in and out of her. Between her eighteenth and twenty-fifth birthdays she starred in more than fifty features, riding cocks, swallowing loads, spreading herself wide for whoever the script placed in front of her. At twenty-five she walked away without fanfare, leaving behind a tidy stack of shiny plastic cases and an audience still hungry for that bratty, pink-lipped smirk.
