Jordan Mcknight
Frontin' Da Booty Scene 5
She flips the switch on a dime. One second she's playing the bashful ingenue, cheeks all flushed, and the next she's working him with the calm confidence of a pro who knows exactly which buttons to press. Eyes wide, then wickedly half-lidded. Her mouth goes from a hesitant 'O' to wrapping tight around him, tongue curling slow and filthy. Hands that look innocent grip his thighs hard enough to leave red prints. She keeps the contrast going even with him deep down her throat—wet gagging sounds spilling out around every thrust, spit shining on her chin—while those same eyes flutter like she's still pretending to be embarrassed by how much she's enjoying it.
She flips the switch on a dime. One second she's playing the bashful ingenue, cheeks all flushed, and the next she's working him with the calm confidence of a pro who knows exactly which buttons to press. Eyes wide, then wickedly half-lidded. Her mouth goes from a hesitant 'O' to wrapping tight around him, tongue curling slow and filthy. Hands that look innocent grip his thighs hard enough to leave red prints. She keeps the contrast going even with him deep down her throat—wet gagging sounds spilling out around every thrust, spit shining on her chin—while those same eyes flutter like she's still pretending to be embarrassed by how much she's enjoying it.