Millie Gets Manhandled

Millie Morgan's brand new to all this. Christian Wilde isn't. He's built, bearded, packing the kind of dick that makes bad decisions worth it. She's the bored wife who wants him, so she calls him in from the yard, drops to her knees, and goes straight for his cock. When he backs off she threatens to scream rape. He gets the message. He bends her over outside and slams into her against the trunk of a tree, hard enough to leave bark burns. Inside she ends up naked on the coffee table, wrists and ankles cinched, ass up. He takes his time looking her over. Then he uses her. Alternates throat and cunt—shoves in deep, pulls out, slaps her face, drives back in. He fucks like he owns the place, one hand on her windpipe, fingers hooked in her cheek when he feels like it. Hits her with the wand while he's buried to the root and she comes so hard her legs shake. Last position: flat on her back, legs spread, wrists tied. He drags the head of his cock over her swollen clit, smacks it a few times, then sinks in slow and mean. She can barely talk, just whimpers every time the wand touches her again. He pounds until he can't hold it, then paints her stomach and tits with thick ropes.