Anal Training of Annie Rose

Annie Rose keeps her little appetite under lock and key until the silk dress drops. Downtown she goes, straight to Serge’s door, cash folded, body already humming. He answers bare-chested, and she doesn’t waste time—she’s on her knees, mouth open, taking his cock in smooth strokes until spit runs down her chin and smears the black of her hair. She likes the mess. When her throat’s slick enough, he spins her around, bends her over the couch, and works her tight asshole open with slow, patient pushes until she’s breathing hard and begging for more. Each deep thrust makes her ass ripple, makes her pussy drip onto the cushions. He fucks her the way she pays for: filthy, thorough, no gentleman’s rules. When his rhythm turns ragged, he pulls out, strokes once, twice, and paints her pretty face with thick, hot ropes. Annie Rose stays on her knees, tongue out, smiling like a girl who just bought exactly what she came for.