Wet Pussykat

Pussykat's tight little ass is impossible to ignore. Freddie gave in before his brain caught up. She knew it. The second he surrendered, she took charge—riding him with a slow, filthy rhythm that had nothing gentle about it. She set the pace, kept it brutal, and never let up. Every stroke deeper than the last. Her body moved like she owned the right to take exactly what she wanted.