Cecelia Vega

I'm Cecelia Vega, straight outta France, and there just aren't enough black cocks back home to keep me busy, so here I am in America. The country's got this long-ass racial beef going on and I'm gonna fuck the tension right out of it. Step one: throw on the sluttiest outfit I own, the kind that barely covers anything and screams come fuck me. I head over to the spot where these black guys chill, catch the one with the red tie going off about racist white assholes, then I drop to my knees and start working my way down that line. I swallow one throbbing dick after another, gagging but loving every thick inch stretching my throat. The place is a wreck—trash everywhere, spray paint on the walls—but my mind's on nothing except servicing this whole pissed-off basketball team. Big black cocks slap across my face, I can't even see which one's coming next, and I'm drowning in so much hot cum it's still clumping in my hair days later. Wouldn't trade it for the world.