All Hail Queenie

Queenie Sateen kneels like a seasoned worshipper. She cradles Mick Blue's heavy cock at the base, opens wide, and swallows the crown until her lips meet her knuckles. No hesitation—just wet, greedy suction that drags his whole length in until her throat flexes and her eyes water. She holds. Then she begins sliding, fast and filthy, spit running down her chin and pooling on the floor. Each plunge makes a crude, sucking sound. Mick groans. She stays locked on him, cheek hollowed, throat working. When she comes up for air, a string of saliva connects her lower lip to his swollen tip, and without wiping her mouth she dives right back down, hungry, louder, meaner. She twists her wrist and bobs her head until Mick’s abs tighten and his fingers knot in her hair. He fucks forward in short, brutal strokes; she meets him halfway, gagging prettily around every inch, her mascara running black lines down flushed cheeks. It’s messy, obscene, endless, and when she finally pulls back, her voice is ragged, lips swollen, voice hoarse as she begs for more.