Bootyful Ice LaFox

She slurped that cold pop, tongue flicking at the tip while her laugh echoed through the room. Minutes later she rode me like we were late for something, ass clapping every time she dropped and thighs flexing while she soaked the inch-thick rod. Her heat blanketed it so tight I felt every squeeze, every little pulse. Fast thrusts with no let-up, yanking my mind into one moaning loop—she bounced until I thought I’d shoot inside her guts without warning.