Tory Lane and Isis Love

Tory Lane hits the mat like she owns it. Isis Love takes her apart slow, deliberate, mean. Tory’s ass is open, spread wide, and Isis pushes in without asking. Fingers first. Then more. Tory’s black hair whips across her face, sticking to sweat. She’s curvy, heavy-breasted, and Isis won’t let her breathe. Tory grits her teeth. She takes it. Every inch. Isis drives deeper, hips snapping, controlling every angle. Tory’s moans turn raw. She’s on her back now, knees pushed to her shoulders, hole stretched tight. Isis stays on top. No mercy. Tory shakes, bites her lip, and holds on. When it’s over she’s wrecked and Isis looks down like she knew this would happen all along.