International Anal

Clea came to LA to dance. She knew it would be a fight. Competition everywhere. English still slipped on her tongue. She needed a coach who would not let her slack, and Markus did not. Hours on the floor turned into hours on the couch. Sweat cooled, breathing stayed quick. He watched her stretch. She watched his hand land on her hip and stay. She opened her mouth for him, took him deep until her eyes watered. He pulled her up, turned her, and worked two fingers inside her ass until she pushed back for more. When he slid in, she grabbed the cushions and bit her lip. He fucked her slow, then hard, never pulling all the way out. She reached back to spread herself wider. He came inside her, thick and deep. Clea slid off, turned around, and sucked him clean, tasting both of them. He was still hard. She dropped lower, took his balls in her mouth, rolled them on her tongue. Markus pulled her up again, bent her over, and sank back into her ass. He pumped another load into her, pulled out, watched it drip, then fed it to her on his fingers. She swallowed and smiled around the taste.