Melrose Foxxx
She moves toward me slow, hips rolling in that lazy rhythm that makes my mouth go dry. Melrose—or Susie, Redd Foxx, Red Foxxx, Susi, Redfoxx, whatever name she's wearing tonight—sinks down with that sly half-smile, bare thighs spread wide across my lap. Her skin is hot, velvet-slick where we touch. She reaches between us and wraps her fingers around my cock, guides the head along her slit until I feel her give, slick and open, then sinks all the way down. The grip is tight, wet heat pulsing around me as her cunt swallows me inch by inch. She rolls her hips in slow circles, grinding down until her clit drags against me every time. Her breath catches, then spills out in one long, shaking moan while she rides. Sweat beads at the small of her back; I feel it when I slide my palms down her spine. She leans in, teeth grazing my jaw, then bites—not gentle—and laughs low when I buck up to meet her. The bed creaks. Her thighs tremble. She rocks harder, faster, taking everything, giving nothing away except the slick sounds between us and the way her nipples brush my chest each time she leans forward. She keeps moving until her body locks around me, walls pulsing, a sharp cry tearing out of her throat. Only then does she slow, collapse against me, breath warm against my collarbone, still twitching with aftershocks.
Melrose Foxxx
She moves toward me slow, hips rolling in that lazy rhythm that makes my mouth go dry. Melrose—or Susie, Redd Foxx, Red Foxxx, Susi, Redfoxx, whatever name she's wearing tonight—sinks down with that sly half-smile, bare thighs spread wide across my lap. Her skin is hot, velvet-slick where we touch. She reaches between us and wraps her fingers around my cock, guides the head along her slit until I feel her give, slick and open, then sinks all the way down. The grip is tight, wet heat pulsing around me as her cunt swallows me inch by inch. She rolls her hips in slow circles, grinding down until her clit drags against me every time. Her breath catches, then spills out in one long, shaking moan while she rides. Sweat beads at the small of her back; I feel it when I slide my palms down her spine. She leans in, teeth grazing my jaw, then bites—not gentle—and laughs low when I buck up to meet her. The bed creaks. Her thighs tremble. She rocks harder, faster, taking everything, giving nothing away except the slick sounds between us and the way her nipples brush my chest each time she leans forward. She keeps moving until her body locks around me, walls pulsing, a sharp cry tearing out of her throat. Only then does she slow, collapse against me, breath warm against my collarbone, still twitching with aftershocks.
