Fun with Aletta Ocean

She stares at me with those bedroom eyes that say everything before a word leaves her lips. Aletta admits she has never worn a strap-on before tonight. The confession lands heavy and sweet. I have her naked on the bed, knees wide, buckling the harness around her hips like I am unwrapping a gift that belongs to me for the first time. Her hands shake. I take over, tighten each strap until the leather bites soft flesh, until the silicone length juts out hard and gleaming from the center of her pelvis. She glances down and laughs once, nervous, breathless. I climb into her lap, sink onto the head until it splits me open and keeps going. She watches every inch disappear, lips parted, eyes huge. When my weight settles flush against the base she moans like the sound surprises her. Her hips move, testing. I guide the rhythm at first, riding her slow, rolling forward so the toy hits all the right angles. She learns fast. Soon she thrusts without asking permission, hands locked on my waist, mouth pressed to my collarbone, hips snapping up with growing confidence. The harness squeaks with sweat. I dig nails into her shoulders. She bites the place just below my ear and keeps fucking me like it has always been hers.