Olivia Winters & Krystal

Krystal never grasped how deep the trouble would sink tonight. She’d flown in to film girl/girl scenes, thinking she knew every shade of rough. Ten minutes of small talk and we quit pretending. My darker side broke loose. I shoved my black strap-on past her glossy lips and rode her throat in hard, lazy strokes, tits swinging heavy under my chin. Boys get soft, but silicone doesn’t. I worked every opening she had until her eyes watered and her pupils flared wide. When her tight little ring clenched around that relentless toy, she squealed and kept her knees spread like a gift. My own cunt stayed slick, throbbing to the rhythm I gave her. She licked and she moaned and she came until my thighs were streaked with it. Then she looked up, glossy-mouthed, hungry for another round. I gave it.