Ingrid Likes it Rough

They've got Ingrid pinned, throat stretched wide around a thick cock that keeps drilling deep. She chokes and gags, drool spilling down her chin, eyes watering while he uses her face like it's nothing but a hole to fuck. No mercy, just relentless thrusts until her mascara runs and her breath comes in broken gasps. When he finally pulls out she's hauled onto her back, legs yanked open, and he sinks into her with one hard thrust. She goes wild—gasping, twitching, nails clawing at the sheets while he pounds her into a blur. Her moans turn ragged; every slam knocks the sense right out of her until she can't even remember her name. He drags her feet into his grip, twisting, pressing, pushing past pain until she screams. The rest of her body is fair game—fingers digging into her hips, teeth on her tits, hands leaving bruises wherever they land. She takes every inch, every slap, every filthy demand. And she keeps begging for more.