Manhandling Sodomy For Anna

Anna and Owen crash the whole fucking deal. Speakers gone, money gone, nothing left but a hot wire snapping between them. So they fuck like the desperate lowlifes they are. She drops on the cold floor in that black fishnet bodysuit, knees wide, mouth open like it belongs around his cock. Owen grabs a fistful of her hair and drives in, long and mean, slapping balls against her chin. The second she gags, he yanks her up, bends her over, and jams fingers straight into her cunt. Wet already. Filthy fast. He circles her asshole, spits once, then sinks the whole length home. Her sphincter stretches wide, shiny, ruined. He fucks her in savage, slapping strokes, pulling out to the tip and drilling back to the root each time. Air whistles out of her with every thrust, that stretched ring winking every time he leaves her empty. When he yanks free, she drops to all fours and gobbles him, mouth slick with her own backdoor mess. Spit and ass-juice shine on his shaft, but she doesn’t flinch. She sucks like she’ll die without it. Closer now, Owen pushes her onto her back, sinks his balls in her throat until her eyes water, then pulls out and paints her face. Thick ropes blast across her lips, her cheeks, one streak clinging to her lashes. Anna licks it up, tongue swiping slow, hungry for every drop.