Daniela Matarazo
BTS-Made In Brazil #03
Made In Brazil #03, Scene #03
Daniela Matarezzo stood there like she owned every inch of the floor—naked, thighs slick, nipples tight enough to cut glass. Her tan tits bounced just a little every time she shifted her weight, the V between her legs shaved smooth, clit peeking out like it was already begging. She gave me that shit-eating grin, then bent over the table slow, spreading herself wide so the tiny pink hole caught the light. “Bet you can’t fuck the attitude out of me,” she purred. My cock jumped. She reached back, grabbed one cheek, and tugged it farther open, letting me see how tight she was, how wet. A bead of her own juice slid down her slit and hung for a second before it dropped. I was over her in two steps, shoving my dick into that dripping cunt so fast her palms slapped the wood and she gasped, “Fuck, yes—harder, you smug prick.” Every thrust made her tits swing and slap together; every slap of skin echoed off the walls. She kept pushing back, meeting me halfway, grunting filthy demands while her slick walls clenched and fluttered like they wanted to swallow me whole. When I bottomed out and held there, grinding deep, she laughed—half-moan, half-challenge—and that laugh broke into a raw scream when I pulled out and rammed straight into her ass, stretching that ring so fast her thighs shook.
Daniela Matarezzo stood there like she owned every inch of the floor—naked, thighs slick, nipples tight enough to cut glass. Her tan tits bounced just a little every time she shifted her weight, the V between her legs shaved smooth, clit peeking out like it was already begging. She gave me that shit-eating grin, then bent over the table slow, spreading herself wide so the tiny pink hole caught the light. “Bet you can’t fuck the attitude out of me,” she purred. My cock jumped. She reached back, grabbed one cheek, and tugged it farther open, letting me see how tight she was, how wet. A bead of her own juice slid down her slit and hung for a second before it dropped. I was over her in two steps, shoving my dick into that dripping cunt so fast her palms slapped the wood and she gasped, “Fuck, yes—harder, you smug prick.” Every thrust made her tits swing and slap together; every slap of skin echoed off the walls. She kept pushing back, meeting me halfway, grunting filthy demands while her slick walls clenched and fluttered like they wanted to swallow me whole. When I bottomed out and held there, grinding deep, she laughed—half-moan, half-challenge—and that laugh broke into a raw scream when I pulled out and rammed straight into her ass, stretching that ring so fast her thighs shook.