Charlotte Vale & Marie Luv

She caught me with her things still warm from my hands. Marie didn’t raise her voice, didn’t call a soul—just turned the key and walked straight at me like she already knew how the night would end. First she took every stitch of cloth from my body, unhurried, cold fingers on warm skin. When I stood naked she gave my tits a measuring glance, then pushed me over the kitchen table and started degrading me in that low, husky tone she uses when she’s about to ruin somebody. I’d never seen a woman get so suddenly soaked from nothing but her own words; wetness slid down her thigh before the first toy even left the purse. She chose the thick, veiny black cock that almost looked too heavy to hold and slapped my lips with it until I opened. “You like touching what isn’t yours, little thief?” Every insult went straight to my cunt, and when she shoved two slick fingers into me, I pushed back like a starved slut. Then the real work began. She bent me over, spread my cheeks wide with both thumbs and lined the fat head of the strapless dildo right against my tight rim. One merciless shove and it went in fast, the pressure so deep I swear the tip almost met the back of my throat. I gasped, drooled, took it all while she rocked her hips and made me confess every filthy thought I’d had since high school. She rode my ass until the muscles in my thighs shook, then yanked the cock free, bent over the same table, and ordered my tongue up her crack. I licked the dark, puckered ring like it was my last meal, moaning when her juices hit my tongue. She came twice on my face, grinding hard, before shoving a second toy into my soaked pussy and fucking me until I squirted down my own legs. When the last tremor left me, she whispered that good little white girls pay their debts on their knees. Next time I wouldn’t need to steal—I'll knock and ask nicely to be used again.