No angel

Natalli DiAngelo has lost her halo. She wears a white slip that might as well be lingerie, the thin fabric clinging to her breasts and the curve of her ass as she moves through the room. A blonde fallen angel with one thought only: cock. She drops to her knees the moment the man steps close, opens his jeans with eager hands, and pulls him straight into her mouth. Her lips stretch around the shaft, saliva already shining on her chin while she works him deeper, taking every inch until her nose brushes his stomach. She moans around him, wet and hungry. When he bends her over, the slip rides up and the view is even better: round cheeks parted, pink hole exposed and waiting. He pushes inside without much warning, stretching her tight ring until it gives, and she groans, grinding back for more. Each thrust fills her completely, the smack of skin sharp and steady. When he finally pulls out she drops again, mouth open, tongue ready, and takes the thick ropes of cum across her face in long white lines that drip from her lashes to her tongue.