Stockings And A Massage Table Bounty

Moans spill from her throat as his tongue flicks against her clit, fingers digging into her thighs. Dark hair pulled into a messy bun sways with each arch of her back, the black lace bodysuit clinging to heavy tits that bounce loose with every shiver. Fishnet stockings bunch around her knees while her legs tremble, feet kicking against the air. The massage table creaks under her weight as she grips the edge, her pussy clenching around his tongue with greedy little pulses. By the time he pulls back, her mascara is running and her breath comes in ragged gasps, but she’s not done yet.