Nicole Doshi Eats A Meat Baguette

Nicole Doshi rents a room. Free kitchen access. She walks in for coffee and clocks the baguette. Thick. Long. Her pussy tightens fast. The baker's pride sits there, daring her, and she's already slick just thinking how it might feel stretching her out. Every girl wonders, but she wants proof. Richard Mann strolls in. Sees her stare. Reads the hunger quick. The man wastes zero time, drops his cock right into that flour-dusted hollow like it's custom-made. Gives it the old French stuffing. Nicole's eyes go wide. The fat head fills the crust like it belongs. Drool hits her tongue before her knees do. She lines up and shoves him past those painted lips—wet noise, tight throat, drool everywhere. She throats him greedy. Swallows, gags, goes again. Kitchen counter rattling now. Richard peels her up, steers her to the nearest couch like a man hauling freight. Then it gets nasty. One long thrust straight in, balls clapping ass, thick veins dragging every inch. Nicole's cunt grips wet, sloppy loud. Richard pumps her through it, heavy stroke after stroke, sweat mixing where skin slaps. She bucks back, gasping, nails digging. The second hole still puckers, needy. Richard pulls out slick, rims her once with that swollen head, then sinks past the ring—slow at first, then fast and deep till there's nowhere left to go. Nicole screams into the cushion. Proper anal now. Filthy rhythm. Ass gripping his cock like she paid for it. Richard works the sphincter open, opens it back up again. Hot load comes after her quaking. He floods her right where the baguette never could.