Vincent’s prick hardened quickly between her lips. His hands were on her head, guiding her movements, clamping her finely trimmed, jet black hair against her scalp. The fat, fleshy helmet of his c**k slid over her tongue and against the roof of her mouth. Her back was arched and her hands writhed unhappily behind her. The meat was salty with the man’s sweat and Anna fought back her revulsion at its invasive presence. As the man drew her head back and forth, she kept her lips pursed firmly around the thick shaft, washing it with her tongue and giving his member a gentle, pleasure giving suckle.
Vincent was in no rush. He plowed Anna’s mouth slowly and deliberately. She could hear his soft sighs as he reveled in the hot moisture surrounding his c**k and the energetic tongue that caressed it
