Marie Fox Gangbang

Richard Mann hits Vegas for one massive gangbang. Grabbing his bag off the turnstile, he tells the story straight—no bullshit. Rebel Rhyder shows up first: tank top plastered to her tits like wet cellophane, nipples stabbing the thin fabric. At the bar they swap filth so loud it draws Marie Fox over. Her eyes light up. She wants in. Hours later they’re ready: Rebel in glossy black straps, Marie in nothing but tiny red strings that dig into soft flesh. Five cocks circle. They tilt Marie’s head back, feed her throat until spit pours down her chest and Rebel scoops it up only to shove it back in Marie’s mouth. She gags. They trade. Cocks slap her face, smear her lipstick, leave spit shining on her cheekbones. Then the circle breaks. They spread her wide. Raw pound—pussy first, quick wet slap-slap-slap—then straight into her ass while she’s still dripping. Every thrust knocks her tits together like a dirty wind chime. Marie laps at dark starfished holes while the guys keep wrecking her cunt, thanking them every time a palm cracks her ass or warm spit lands across her tongue. DP comes fast, then double anal: two cocks crammed up her slick back door till her rim winks like it can’t decide whether to close. Rebel sucks them right out, lips glossed with her own spit and the filth still pulsing inside Marie. Then everything changes. Marie drops onto her back. One dick in her pussy, two crammed up her ass—full triple split. Her stockings shred at the knees while the men piston. Her asshole balloons out around them—pink rings blooming, then belching wet, nasty air when the dicks pop free. Muscles flutter, slack, pulse. When they finally unload they do it in one rush: thick, ropey shots paint her mouth, her lashes, her tits, until her face is just streaks of white sliding down flushed skin.