Femdom Ass worship #17, Scene #03

Alison Tyler towers in the doorway, skirt barely clinging to that thick shelf of ass, her white top stretched tight over heavy tits that move like trouble waiting to happen. She turns, slow, lets you see every curve while she slides her hands back to spread herself. No words. Just that look—hungry, mean, like she already knows you’ll kneel. Professor clicks the lock. Too late. She grabs his thinning hair, drags his face into her crack until he can’t think. "Lick." He does. She sits on him—full weight—grinds until his nose disappears and his breath comes in wet, ragged gulps. Her cunt brushes his lips and leaves them slick. Every slow circle of her hips crushes more air out of him. She spins, plants a bare foot on his cheek. Toes flex, push between his teeth, heel digs under his chin. He whines. She smiles, lazy. "Worship," she tells him, and steps harder. When she finally wraps her fist around his sad little cock, she’s still standing on him. Thumb drags his slit, squeezes just enough to make his hips jerk. She strokes slow, mean, like she wants to watch him beg before she lets him blow across his own belly. Her toes never leave his mouth.