Your Lips, My Ass: Glenn King's Favorite Ass Worship!, Scene #09

You're on your knees when Krissy steps into frame—blonde hair, dangerous legs in black spike-heeled boots, chaps split wide so nothing hides that thick, pale ass. One breath and she clocks you. She’s on you fast, pins you down, hauls the cash out of your pocket, laughing like she’s done this a hundred times. She grabs a fistful of hair and drags you across the tile to the open toilet. Panties she just peeled off get crammed past your teeth—wet silk, her taste. Then she plants that meaty ass right over your face and orders your tongue up her hole. Every thrust pushes deeper. She spits across your nose, smashes your cheeks, makes you beg while you worship sweat-slick skin. When she’s had enough she fishes a half-eaten donut from the trash, mashes the sticky thing between her toes, and shoves her foot into your mouth until crumbs and frosting slide down your throat.