Evil Anal #07, Scene #02

Melissa cuts through the water like a blade. One minute she's laps and the next she's draped over the lip of the hot tub, two fingers buried between her cheeks. She spits on them, stretches herself open, pops a plug in with a low hiss. Manuel watches from the corner, heart slamming like a jackhammer. When he steps into the steam she doesn't flinch; she slides off the seat, kneels, yanks his cock past her lips until her nose brushes skin. Later her tongue swirls around the plug, loosens it, spits it into the bubbles. He spears her ass with one rough push and she grits out a half-smile, half-cry. They stumble into the living room, her hand already tugging at his shaft. She swallows him again—slow, wet, relentless—then climbs on, spreads wide and sinks until her ass bottoms out on his hips. Each downward roll knocks a gasp from her throat. When he finally pulls out he paints her cheekbones, lips and lashes in thick ropes.