Backstage with Aleksa

Aleksa looks like someone painted her. Skin tight over tight muscle, curves where a woman should curve. She finished her last set, breath still climbing, when Zack stepped in. He took one look and didn’t bother with words—just dropped his hand between her legs and told her exactly what he wanted to do to that sweet, slick pussy. She didn’t need convincing. Her thighs parted like it was the most natural thing in the world. Zack slid two fingers inside, felt how ready she already was, and grinned. Aleksa sank to her knees, eyes dark, mouth open. She wrapped her lips around his cock and worked him with slow, hungry pulls, tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing, spit shining down her chin. When he finally bent her over, she arched her back and pushed up to meet every thrust, letting him take her deep. She loved it fast, loved it rough, loved the way he switched between her cunt and her ass without asking, filling whichever hole he wanted. Every stroke made her gasp, every slap of skin against skin pushed her closer. She stayed right there, greedy for every inch, until he emptied himself inside her.