Jay West vs Brandi Mae

Jay West struts in like he’s king of the mats after beating Charlotte Sartre once. One win. Big deal. Today Brandi Mae is here to put him in his place, and she’s built like a damn fortress. Thick slabs of muscle, tits that strain against her top, and a fat, juicy clit she plans to grind right over his mouth. She’s called The Boulder for a reason. Every inch of her feels like carved stone. Jay’s the only man here who begs for ball-busting, so she gives it to him. Knees slam up between his legs, sharp and vicious. Each hit sends fire up his spine and blood straight to his cock, stiffening it against his will. He grits his teeth, tries to fight the rush, but his body betrays him. He scrambles, muscles straining, and manages to pin her a couple of times. The weight of him presses down, and Brandi’s clit betrays her just as fast. One brush of his fingers and her hips jerk. She’s so close it’s embarrassing. Jay feels the twitch, the slick heat, and he doubles down, rubbing, chasing the quick win. She cums hard, cursing through clenched teeth, thighs locked around his head. That loss earns her the right to claim him. She flips him onto his stomach, spreads his cheeks, and takes his ass with the same merciless rhythm she used on his balls. He groans, fists pounding the mat, while she rides every inch inside him. When she’s finished, she drags him to his knees. “Worship,” she orders. He kisses and licks every ridge of muscle, tongue tracing veins along her arms, her abs, her thighs. Then lower, mouth open, sucking the swollen clit that beat him until she growls and shoves him away. Brandi stands, hooks one thick arm under his body, and hoists him like luggage. He hangs over her shoulder, cock still hard, face flushed, carried off the mats and out the door for whatever else she wants.