A Dick For Slimthick Vic

Slimthick Vic strolled into the scene and I had to check myself twice just to prove I wasn’t dreaming. That hourglass figure hit harder than my morning coffee. She didn’t waste a second. The next thing I knew, she had my cock in her mouth, working her lips like she’d been paid to find buried treasure. Her tongue flicked, cheeks sucked, and I felt every slick move of her gag reflex flirting with the tip. Once I couldn’t stand another second outside her, I laid her down and shoved in deep. Her cunt gripped like a wet velvet fist. Hips slapped loud enough to wake the neighbors. She moaned, wrapped her thick thighs around me, and each stroke bottomed out in that tight, silken heat. Sweat ran down my back; her tits bounced in time. I pinned her wrists to the sheets, grinding circles every time I bottomed out, feeling her pulse around my shaft. Her moans went ragged. It became a race neither of us wanted to lose—her walls fluttering, my balls tight, tension coiled in my spine like a ready spring. When the spark finally hit, I drove in balls-deep and let go, jet after jet flooding her pussy. Her moans hitched as the hot ropes painted her insides. I held, shook, pulsed until every drop had a new home.