Ivy Lebelle

Rico and his crew are cruising when the car's engine starts coughing up trouble. Lucky for them the only wrench in town belongs to Ivy LeBelle. Curves for days, grease on her knuckles, and she actually likes getting filthy. Ivy pops the hood, takes one look and tells them straight. Three grand to get rolling again. Problem is these broke bastards are holding less than pocket lint. Good news, Ivy takes payment in dick. Loves it, in fact. Thirteen of them? Sounds like the right kind of payday to her. They surround her fast and she drops to her knees like she owns the ground. First cock hits her tongue, then the next, until she's got a full rotation sliding past her lips and stretching her throat wide open. She drools, she gags, she handles every last inch without breaking rhythm. Spit runs down her chin onto her heavy tits, shining under the sun. By the time her jaw starts locking she looks them dead in the eye and begs for their loads. They unload in thick ropes across her face, across her chest, one after the other until she's painted and dripping. She licks her lips, flashes them a grin, and calls it even.