Casey Calvert: Submitting From Afar

Casey Calvert and The Pope can't fuck in the same room right now, but that doesn't stop the game. Her black hair spills over the sheets while she spreads her legs for the camera and waits for his voice in her ear. The Pope talks her through every move from across the miles, low and steady. She listens. She obeys. Every stretch of those long, athletic legs, every arch of her back, feeds the tension between them. When he tells her to reach for the thick toy, her fingers tremble. She works it in slow, then deeper, breath catching when he says harder. The stretch burns. She gives in anyway. Every thrust is an answer to his command, every moan proof she belongs to him even when walls and distance keep them apart. Sweat sticks to her skin. Her thighs shake. Still, she keeps going because he hasn't told her to stop.