Sara Jay

Sara Jay's marriage hit a wall when her husband started drooling over every skirt that walked by and then couldn't deliver dick worth a damn. That same afternoon some smooth-talking college kid named Chilly Chill caught her mid-screaming-match. Took one look at his pretty skin and cocky grin and Sara was already plotting revenge dick. Once hubby was safely gone for hours, Chilly peeled her out of that bra and those fat tits spilled out like they were pissed about being kept prisoner. He groped them, slapped them, made them bounce while Sara's eyes stayed glued to the thick bulge in his pants. The moment she dropped to her knees she was gone, lipstick streaking down that black shaft, spit bubbling at the corners of her mouth as she licked from base to heavy balls. Her cunt was already dripping down her thighs. She straddled him, grabbed that fat black dick, and sank down until her stretched pussy swallowed every inch and his balls mashed her clit. She bounced like the house was on fire, each drop sending those tits crashing against her chin, wet claps and guttural screams rattling the walls while she chased a high her husband never gave her. Five o'clock crept closer and Sara still wouldn't quit; she stayed plugged on that pole until Chilly grunted, pulled out, and painted her tits and stomach with hot, thick ropes. Hubby called right after, heard the lazy satisfaction in her voice, and never suspected a thing. Sara Jay just rode the best black cock of her life and every word out of her mouth sounded like she was still mid-orgasm.