Marco spots Canela. One look and his cock twitches. They cruise the city together, but the tension's thick as fuck. She keeps glancing his way, lips shiny, thighs squeezing together like she can't wait. They roll up to his buddy's place and barely hit the door before they're heading straight for the bedroom. She's wild. Tiny waist, hips that flare out so fast it feels like a cheat code, an ass that begs for hands and cock both. When she turns and grins around the edge of that mouth, Marco's brain shorts out—full lips, wet shine, the kind that looks built to stretch around his dick. He pushes her onto the mattress. No small talk now. Canela hits the sheets already soaked. He yanks her panties aside and sinks in hard, bare skin slapping skin, and the first squirt hits before they find a rhythm. She sprays across the comforter, voice breaking. He flips her onto all fours and hammers in. Each thrust squeezes another hot rush out of her, soaking his balls, dripping off her thighs. He grabs that perfect ass and keeps driving, switching angles till she's shaking, thighs glossy, bed ruined. She rides next, grinding down until she drenches the sheets all over again, then he flips her onto her back, legs pinned wide. He fucks her deep, short strokes, watching the wet spot spread wider with every squirt. By the time he pulls out, she's a wrecked mess, hips still twitching. Marco stands at the edge, strokes twice, and fills her open mouth with thick, hot cream. Canela swallows, tongue out, eyes bright like she wants another round.
Marco spots Canela. One look and his cock twitches. They cruise the city together, but the tension's thick as fuck. She keeps glancing his way, lips shiny, thighs squeezing together like she can't wait. They roll up to his buddy's place and barely hit the door before they're heading straight for the bedroom. She's wild. Tiny waist, hips that flare out so fast it feels like a cheat code, an ass that begs for hands and cock both. When she turns and grins around the edge of that mouth, Marco's brain shorts out—full lips, wet shine, the kind that looks built to stretch around his dick. He pushes her onto the mattress. No small talk now. Canela hits the sheets already soaked. He yanks her panties aside and sinks in hard, bare skin slapping skin, and the first squirt hits before they find a rhythm. She sprays across the comforter, voice breaking. He flips her onto all fours and hammers in. Each thrust squeezes another hot rush out of her, soaking his balls, dripping off her thighs. He grabs that perfect ass and keeps driving, switching angles till she's shaking, thighs glossy, bed ruined. She rides next, grinding down until she drenches the sheets all over again, then he flips her onto her back, legs pinned wide. He fucks her deep, short strokes, watching the wet spot spread wider with every squirt. By the time he pulls out, she's a wrecked mess, hips still twitching. Marco stands at the edge, strokes twice, and fills her open mouth with thick, hot cream. Canela swallows, tongue out, eyes bright like she wants another round.
