Air BnD Nightmare!

Jennifer White needed cash, so she rented her spare bedroom to Tommy Smith. Meek city girl, black hair, quiet nights—until the drilling started. Late. Loud. Then his stare changed. When she finally pushed back, he showed her what he built. The machine waits in the dark like a predator. Straps bite first. Jennifer thrashes, wrists yanked overhead, ankles spread wide. A fat ball gag packs her mouth, spit already sliding down her chin. Tommy works in silence, buckling, tightening, testing every inch until she can barely twitch. He runs his hand over her ass, spreads her open, and starts feeding the thick steel shaft in. Slow. Relentless. Her muffled scream hits the gag as her hole stretches around cold metal. Once he's buried it deep, he hits the switch. The device roars to life—pistons hammering, rotating, driving into her ass without mercy. Jennifer jerks against the restraints, drool flying, mascara streaking. Tommy steps in front, unzips, and shoves his cock past the gag. She gags, throat clenching, while the machine keeps pounding her from behind. Every thrust slams her forward onto his dick. Every retreat drags her back onto the steel. He grips her hair, fucks her face harder, watches tears cut tracks down her cheeks. The restraints creak. The motor growls. Jennifer’s body jolts between the two invaders, used, stretched, owned. He pulls out only to watch strings of spit stretch from her lips to his cock, then slams back in. The machine never slows. It just keeps driving up her ass, stroke after brutal stroke, until her legs shake and her muffled cries turn raw. When he finally finishes, he leaves her strapped there—gag wet, ass wrecked, the machine still churning inside her like it owns the night.