KATRINA COLT Slick Latex, Oil & Gaping

She wears black latex like it was poured on. The boots grip her calves, heels sharp enough to cut. Katrina's body glints under the oil—every curve slick, every move slow like she's already halfway gone. She tips the bottle and lets the oil run down the small of her back, pooling before she drags two fingers through it and spreads herself open. A squat, a push, and that dildo vanishes into her ass, thick veins gleaming, her breath catching in her throat. Vince doesn't knock. One hand pins her, the other shoves the thing deeper, then yanks it out and replaces it with his cock before she can spit a word. He fucks her face like he's trying to break it in—gagging her on the first shove, spit flying, mascara running. She takes it, eyes up, throat working, until he drags her up and spins her around. The real show starts when he wedges his cock in that stretched hole. Every thrust knocks a sound out of her. Sharp. Wet. The slap of skin on skin, louder each time he bottoms out. She shoves the dildo back in alongside him and the stretch rips a whimper straight from her chest. She rides like she's chasing something ugly and good. When she's worn raw, he jerks off across her face, leaving her marked, eyes half-shut, lips still open like she's asking for more.