Backstage with Beata Undine

Csoky’s lens has barely cooled when his favorite girl stays behind. Beata stretches across the chaise, dark hair falling over one shoulder, that neat dark triangle already slick from the session before. She sees the bulge in his jeans and smiles like she’s been waiting for the cue. When he frees himself she meets the thick shaft with an open, wet mouth, tongue working slow circles before she takes him deep, throat flexing. Csoky grips her hair, hips moving in time with the slow bob of her head. Then she turns, raises one knee onto the edge of the chaise, offering the plump lips of her cunt framed by that soft bush. He pushes in to the hilt and Beata moans low, rocking back to meet every thrust. Her walls clutch him, warm and greedy, every slap of skin echoing in the quiet studio. She keeps her eyes on him over her shoulder, mouth open, breath hitching every time he bottoms out. When he’s close she reaches back, spreads herself wider, urging him deeper until he spills inside her with a strangled grunt. Beata stays draped over the chaise, a lazy smile on her lips, his cum already starting to seep out and darken the fine curls between her thighs.