Muscle Man vs. Petite Tattooed Female

Lily Lane moves like she’s trying to prove something. Tiny frame, fast feet, she darts around the mat while Will Tile stays planted, letting her run. He’s big, black, built like the former soldier he is, dick swinging heavy before it thickens and rises with each slow step he takes. No rush. Graceful even. She talks shit the whole time, mouth filthy, trying to get under his skin. Works, too. He hardens faster. When she finally gets on her knees her lips wrap tight and the edge in her voice turns to wet slurps. He’s thick enough that she has to work for it, spit running down his shaft while she stares up at him, eyes daring him to crack. He doesn’t. He picks her up instead, hands under her ass, her legs dangling, and slides her straight onto him. Lift fucks. Standing slams. She takes every inch like she’s trying to prove she can. Sweat, muscle, the slap of skin against skin. He keeps the pace deliberate until the finish, then drives deep and holds her there, both of them shaking. She still tries to talk. He just smiles, dick still buried, and lets the silence win.