Marsha May has Friday Fun

Marsha May's got that apple pie fuck-me smile, the kind that could make Old Glory salute. Dan drops his pants like he's unwrapping a dirty little secret and the two of them slam together, all sweat and motion under the cheap hotel lights. She's tiny, built like sin in a package you can carry. She gets on her hands and knees, ass up, hungry for it. Dan takes what he wants, deep and greedy, while she moans like the kind of girl who knows the devil's name. Then she turns around, eager mouth open, drinking him down until there's nothing left but proof she finished the job.