Mila's Captive Fantasy

Mila Brite steps into the alley, heels scraping asphalt, and the man waiting there grabs her hard. He spins her around, palms rough on her big tits, squeezing until she feels the heat flare up her spine. Her skirt hikes up fast. He presses her chest-first against the brick wall and drags her hips back until that thick cock rubs heavy between her cheeks. She pushes back without thinking, already wet, already open. He spits on his fingers and works two of them into her tight hole, stretching her slow at first, then rougher, owning the space. The metal cuffs snap around her wrists before she can breathe. He shoves her knees apart, lines up, and drives in deep—one relentless thrust that sinks him all the way to the base. Mila’s breath catches on the stretch, her back arching, her body forced to take every inch. He doesn’t ease up. He fucks her ass with hard, greedy strokes, the slap of skin echoing off the walls, cuffs digging into her wrists every time he pulls her back onto his cock. She comes like that, shaking, pinned, dripping down her thighs, but he keeps going, using her until she’s nothing but heat and need and the heavy drag of him inside her.