Porsha

Porsha took her time. At first the machines spooked her—someone had mentioned the smallest dildo was four and a half inches of solid totem pole. She circled them, heels clicking, dark hair swinging against her shoulders. Then the Intruder called to her. She eased down, took it slow, let the motor find its rhythm. Her fingers slid between her lips, stroking while the thick shaft worked deeper. Soon she was leaning back, heels planted, breathing hard as the Monster took over. Every thrust hit harder, the brunette riding like she’d been waiting for it. Sweat ran down her spine. She didn’t flinch when the pace kicked up. She pushed back, took it all, and the machine kept coming.