ZZ101 Then she stands up, steps onto his chest in filthy black ankle socks, crusty with sweat and dirt. She clears her throat, gathers a massive wad,
ZZ101 ✅✅✅⤵️
Bertie has her boyfriend tied to the bed, wrists crossed and lashed tight to the headboard, ropes biting into his skin. He can’t move an inch. She towers over him in skin-tight baby-blue leggings that hug her perfect ass like a second skin.
She lowers herself slowly, planting her crotch and ass right on his face. The fabric is soaked with her wetness and sweat; she grinds hard, sealing his mouth and nose. He can barely breathe. Bertie opens her mouth, it’s overflowing with thick, stringy spit. She plays with it, pulling long strands, letting him see before she laughs in his face.
Then she stands up, steps onto his chest in filthy black ankle socks, crusty with sweat and dirt. She clears her throat, gathers a massive wad, and HAWK-TUUU! spits a huge glob straight into his face. The impact is loud, wet, obscene. One after another, heavy spit-bombs splatter across his cheeks, forehead, open mouth. His entire face is instantly glazed, dripping into his ears and eyes.
She lifts a foot and starts smearing the slimy mess all over his face with her grimy socks, grinding hard. Then she shoves her socked foot into his mouth:
— Lick it clean, you disgusting pig. Every drop.
He sticks out his tongue, lapping at the soaked fabric while she for...s her whole foot deeper, making his cheeks bulge.
She moves to the nightstand his wrists are tied to, sits on the edge, spreads her legs, and starts hosing him down from above. Massive white spit-rocks rain down: forehead, eyes, straight into his open mouth. Spit flies everywhere.
She grabs his hair, yanks his head forward, and rams both socked feet deep into his mouth:
— Suck my nasty socks, bitch. Deeper, **** on them.
She laughs right in his dripping face, hawks one final fat loogie straight down his throat and hisses:
— You’re my personal spit-bucket now. Forever....
Bertie has her boyfriend tied to the bed, wrists crossed and lashed tight to the headboard, ropes biting into his skin. He can’t move an inch. She towers over him in skin-tight baby-blue leggings that hug her perfect ass like a second skin.
She lowers herself slowly, planting her crotch and ass right on his face. The fabric is soaked with her wetness and sweat; she grinds hard, sealing his mouth and nose. He can barely breathe. Bertie opens her mouth, it’s overflowing with thick, stringy spit. She plays with it, pulling long strands, letting him see before she laughs in his face.
Then she stands up, steps onto his chest in filthy black ankle socks, crusty with sweat and dirt. She clears her throat, gathers a massive wad, and HAWK-TUUU! spits a huge glob straight into his face. The impact is loud, wet, obscene. One after another, heavy spit-bombs splatter across his cheeks, forehead, open mouth. His entire face is instantly glazed, dripping into his ears and eyes.
She lifts a foot and starts smearing the slimy mess all over his face with her grimy socks, grinding hard. Then she shoves her socked foot into his mouth:
— Lick it clean, you disgusting pig. Every drop.
He sticks out his tongue, lapping at the soaked fabric while she for...s her whole foot deeper, making his cheeks bulge.
She moves to the nightstand his wrists are tied to, sits on the edge, spreads her legs, and starts hosing him down from above. Massive white spit-rocks rain down: forehead, eyes, straight into his open mouth. Spit flies everywhere.
She grabs his hair, yanks his head forward, and rams both socked feet deep into his mouth:
— Suck my nasty socks, bitch. Deeper, **** on them.
She laughs right in his dripping face, hawks one final fat loogie straight down his throat and hisses:
— You’re my personal spit-bucket now. Forever....
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