Strip Club Domme 12 - Olivia Jay

Glenn walks into the dimly lit club and there she is—Olivia Jay, long and striking, already reading him like a cheap paperback. Her business suit hugs every curve, heels clicking as she zeroes in. One sharp look and he’s on his knees, her heel pressing into his chest before he can even ask her name. She tells him exactly where to put his mouth and doesn’t let up. He ends up flat on the velvet bench, her full weight on his face, her ass grinding while she laughs under her breath. She flips him, climbs on in a perfect sixty-nine, skirt hiked, panties pushed aside, mouth and tongue working him while he struggles to breathe beneath her. She peels off one shoe and feeds him her foot, toes slick from his spit, nails painted black. When she pulls his pants down the thick, cut head of his cock is already glistening. She teases it with her tongue, slow and mean, before she sits back on his face again, grinding until his whole world is just heat, scent, and the sound of her breathing getting rougher. Every move says the same thing: she’s in charge, and he’s exactly where she wants him.