Barbie Sins

Barbie Sins flew over from the UK chasing some wild vacation plans when the map she pulled up on her phone led her to a ghost. The bookstore at that exact address had vanished months back, replaced by an adult shop stuffed with all kinds of nasty toys and DVDs. She laughed, shrugged, and stepped inside anyway. Soon she was parked in front of the Dogfart shelf, juices already slicking her panties. The clerk noticed and pointed her to the arcade. First time shy, Barbie slipped into a booth, door locked, a dirty flick sputtering across the tiny screen. Heat flooded her pussy and her fingers slipped under her skirt. The first cock to pop through the gloryhole was small, pale, polite—hardly worth the trip. Barbie brushed it aside. The second one nearly smacked her in the chin. Thick, dark, twitching. She grinned, gripped the base, and wrapped her lips around it, sloppy and eager. She sucked until strings of spit trailed to her tits, then turned, hiked her skirt and slammed her dripping cunt back onto that throbbing shaft. She rode hard, tits bouncing, moans loud enough to echo over the movie’s cheap soundtrack. The little white cock kept jacking just outside her view, desperate. Barbie finally grabbed it in a lazy hand and finished the job, stroking quickly so the cum painted the booth wall instead of her palm. Her real attention stayed on the BBC stretching her wide. She wasn’t here for history lessons anymore—she was here to get fucked stupid.