Hot chocolate

Larissa Prada can't help herself—she's got it bad for chocolate. And I mean really bad. She's imagining this huge, dark guy showing up, shoving that monster dick straight into her until she screams louder than a popcorn machine on fire. Nobody else hits those spots. Nobody else can stretch her and pound her into next week like her chocolate lover. Tonight they fuck on her kitchen floor, hips smacking tile, legs shaking while she begs for more and he paints her belly with the thick stuff. Real messy. Real loud. Just how she likes it.