Anal In Hollywood

Lana sits on the bed, script in her lap, mouthing lines she still doesn’t trust. The door clicks open. Moka steps in barefoot, nothing on under her silk robe. She crosses the room, takes the pages, and drops them on the floor. Then she pushes Lana onto her back and spreads her legs. Slow licks, warm breath, nothing hurried. Lana moans, hips rising, until her hands fist the sheets and her voice breaks on the last unfinished line. The next afternoon she walks into their bedroom. Markus is waiting, cock already hard. Moka kneels first, takes him deep until her throat works and spit shines her chin. She passes him to Lana the same way—wet, warm, no pause. Lana swallows until her eyes water, then Moka pulls her up, turns her, and Markus pushes into her ass without hurry. Lana feels herself open around him, the stretch pulling a long, low sound from her throat. He fucks her in steady strokes, pulling out now and then so Moka can suck him clean before he sinks back in. Lana’s ass gapes each time he leaves her, shiny and twitching. Markus keeps the pace measured until his breath shortens and he buries himself to the root, flooding her. When he pulls free, the cum spills out in thick pulses. Moka leans in and cleans every drop from his cock and from Lana’s open hole, tongue working slow, not stopping until nothing is left.