Over The Moon

Xochi struts over in that lacy number that's doing fuck-all to hide anything. Tits pushed up, nipples hard, the whole look basically screaming. She's already wet and shows it—pushes her ass out and gives Mick this grin like she wants to get split. His cock's out and she wastes zero time wrapping her mouth around it, taking it deep like she can't get enough. She’s going at it proper, spit everywhere, throat working, hand stroking whatever’s left out. Meanwhile Mick’s got his fingers up her cunt, pumping, thumb brushing her clit, and she humps back into his hand shamelessly. Lingerie slips off, panties dangle one leg now, two fingers buried so deep you can see her wet down her thighs. She climbs on top—actually climbs—like she owns him, guides that dick inside, and starts riding hard, legs shaking every time he fills her up. Every thrust gets a loud grunt out of her, and every grinding motion makes her cunt drip down his balls. Mick thrusts from underneath, smacking her ass red, and he switches her to doggy so he can pin her and pound until her legs give out. Xochi moans through it, face buried in the sheets, reaching back to spread herself wider so he goes balls-deep. When he’s finally done he paints her with it, thick ropes across her face, chest, between her tits. She licks her lips clean, smirks at the camera, wanting every inch back the second she catches her breath.