Marylin Takes Big Johnson

Marylin Johnson struts into the room like sin in heels. She peels off layers slow, deliberate, letting every curve talk before she drops to her knees in front of Mick Blue. The first taste sends a shudder down his spine. Her lips seal tight, throat opens, and the heat hits him full force. Tongue works the shaft in wet, determined strokes while her hand grips the base, twisting in sync with her mouth. Mick growls. Fingers dig into her hair. She pushes deeper, saliva trailing down her chin, breath hot through her nose as she swallows him again. No breaks. Just raw hunger driving every slide, every tight pull, every hungry gulp that leaves him throbbing against her tongue.