His explosive finale marks territory you thought yours with visible evidence of superior virility. Each rope landing on her willing body becomes psychological artillery, the visual proof of his dominance and her eager acceptance destroying any remaining claim you desperately imagined.
Lola Aiko and Amone Bane want a new bull. They pick her internet café after closing, safer than their place. When Sheem the Dream drops his pants, Lola stares at the size like she’s starving. Amone watches her pupils widen. Sheem acts like Amone isn’t there. He grabs Lola, sets her on his lap, palms her small tits, and she’s already reaching down. She yanks his cock free, slides her lips over the head, and takes him deep—nose pressed into the thick hair at the base. She gags once, twice, then pops off, climbs aboard, and drops. Her tight cunt stretches around him, lips gripping every inch. She rides hard, hips snapping, wet sounds filling the empty café. Amone stays seated, breathing through his teeth. When Sheem’s breathing changes, Lola pulls off and they both drop to their knees, mouths open, tongues out. Thick ropes land on her face and Amone’s tongue, mixing with her spit. Sheem walks out. They stay kneeling, licking each other clean, the café’s neon sign still buzzing overhead.
Lola Aiko and Amone Bane want a new bull. They pick her internet café after closing, safer than their place. When Sheem the Dream drops his pants, Lola stares at the size like she’s starving. Amone watches her pupils widen. Sheem acts like Amone isn’t there. He grabs Lola, sets her on his lap, palms her small tits, and she’s already reaching down. She yanks his cock free, slides her lips over the head, and takes him deep—nose pressed into the thick hair at the base. She gags once, twice, then pops off, climbs aboard, and drops. Her tight cunt stretches around him, lips gripping every inch. She rides hard, hips snapping, wet sounds filling the empty café. Amone stays seated, breathing through his teeth. When Sheem’s breathing changes, Lola pulls off and they both drop to their knees, mouths open, tongues out. Thick ropes land on her face and Amone’s tongue, mixing with her spit. Sheem walks out. They stay kneeling, licking each other clean, the café’s neon sign still buzzing overhead.
