Not My Type

Kurt Lockwood walks in for a NURU and sees Karter Foxx. Blonde may be on fire but brunette isn’t his style. Too bad—no one else around. She grins, walks him straight to the shower, and strips off that tiny white robe like she plans to fuck some sense into him. Dick still asleep, he watches her drop to her knees and give it a sloppy hello. Warm little mouth gets it lifting fast. When she invites him under the spray he figures, why not. Karter soaps his balls like she’s adding insurance, and the damn thing is stone by the time she strokes the suds around it. Still Kurt plays hard to get. Says if it were up to him he’d pick another girl. She answers with the stool. Sits him down, snakes her arm through the middle ring, and works his soapy cock and nutsack in tight circles. He grips the seat, breathes hard, fighting not to shoot early. Next the slick blue mat. Karter pours the warm gel over him, rubs it into her perky tits, and rubs those tits up and down his back, moving like liquid silk. He flips. She drags her pussy over his chest, lips slippery and juicy, waking him up even more. When his cock’s throbbing her throat, he asks for her cunt and gets it. Karter sinks down slow, rolls her hips, fat Latina ass pumping. Tight, hot, greedy. He promises on the spot she’s now his only go-to girl. Then he flips her sideways, pins her leg up high, and drives thick strokes until she spasms around him. Right after she squeezes out the last flutter he pulls free and sprays every bit of cum all over her smooth, shaved slit. Karter gives him the last lazy suck on the crown, smiles like the queen she knows she is.