Victoria Voxxx Mean A/C Repair

The hottest day in London. AC's dead. He calls a repair guy and gets Victoria instead—rough, filthy, already pissed off when she walks in. She takes one look at the unit, shoves a phone in his face with some shot of a rusty valve that isn't even his. Tells him it's gonna cost. He calls her bluff. That's when it shifts. She plants herself on his couch like she owns it, peels off one boot, then the other, and jams her sweaty foot straight into his mouth. Orders him to sniff. He does. Tongue out, licking between her toes while she laughs at him. Next thing his face is buried under her ass in those damp overalls, her full weight pinning him, no air, just heat and stink and her voice telling him he's nothing. She strips down, sweaty arms slick, drops that bare ass right on his face and grinds until he can't think. Never stops talking shit the whole time. Facesitting, foot worship, smothering, hand around his cock at the end—squeezing until he shoots all over himself with her sitting on his head.