Anal Car Wash Girl

Lena Paul pressed against the hood, suds sliding down those natural tits. She knew the camera was watching. Knew every bubble was a dare. I stepped closer and she smiled like she'd already won. Her ass, thick and gleaming, pushed out toward me, and the water traced every curve. She laughed, low and dirty, then arched her back when my hand landed between her cheeks. Soap ran down her thighs. The sun bounced off wet skin. I told her what I wanted and she bent further, ass cheeks parting, everything pink and open under the spray. Multiple angles, multiple positions—me behind her, pulling her onto my cock, her tits swinging free, water everywhere. She rode it slow at first, then harder when I told her to. Every slap of skin echoed off the car doors. I worshipped that ass with my mouth between strokes, tongue pushing where the soap couldn't reach. She moaned like she loved the audience, loved how filthy it looked in daylight. Sun on our bodies, suds on my fingers, and her begging for more before the rinse cycle even started.