Alexis Fawx 1st Anal

She knelt on the hotel carpet, bare knees pressing into the rough fibers. He grabbed her face with one hand, fingers digging deep into her cheeks until her lips puckered out. Her giant tits swung heavy between them, the undersides brushing his thighs every time she rocked forward. He pushed his cock between those tits, squeezed them together hard enough that the flesh spilled over his grip, and fucked the slick valley with short, brutal strokes. When he pulled free, spit trailed between the fat head and her mouth. She turned, ass high, and he dropped to his knees behind her. He spread her open with both thumbs, stared a beat, then dragged his tongue slow and wet from clit to hole, tasting every inch. The second pass, he stayed there, sealing his mouth around her rim until her thighs shook. Spit ran down her crack; he caught it on his tongue and shoved it back inside her. Then he stood, lined up, and drove straight into her ass in one push. No warmup. She gasped, forehead pressed to the floor, toes curling against the carpet. He didn’t stop—just pulled most of the way out and slammed back in, setting a hard rhythm that made the heavy flesh of her ass ripple. Each thrust shoved her forward, tits dragging across the cheap fabric. When he yanked her upright by the hair, his cock slipped free with a wet sound. He spun her around, shoved it past her lips, and she tasted herself—hot, bitter, real—before he spun her back and buried himself again.