Chanta-Rose

Chanta-Rose. 2001. She’s Australian. Blonde. Parents shipped her overseas hoping distance would straighten her out, but she got straight A’s in self-amusement. She spreads her legs, slides two fingers between her folds, works herself open until the shine coats her knuckles. Her fake tits bounce under each slap she gives them, the skin reddening, nipples tight. She pushes a third finger in, then tilts, offering her ass to the lens. The tight ring stretches around the same fingers that were just inside her cunt, and she works them deeper, grunting low, wrist flexing. Her heavy, round breasts quiver again as she slaps the undersides, leaving pink handprints that fade to angry red. She rocks harder, riding her hand, blonde hair swinging, eyes locked on you like she’s daring you to look away.