Jessa Rhodes loosened up quite nicely

Jessa Rhodes glances down, sees the cock, and laughs. How the fuck is that thing supposed to fit? The camera is already shoving close-ups in the viewer’s face, and somebody’s nervous giggle slips out of frame. She flips onto her back anyway, knees bending, doing the math—mostly, “when?” Doesn’t stop her from trying. Inch after stubborn inch fights her lips, her tight little canal giving the camera the slow-motion struggle it craves. Every grunt she lets out turns into half-wink, half-grimace. Off-camera a hand cups her tit, encouraging. Finally the camera lingers on her belly; a tremor works across it as she exhales through clenched teeth. Maybe in a couple days she won’t squirm at the sight of it. Maybe.