AMATEUR GIRL FRIDAYS Savannah West

Savannah West walks in dressed like she’s headed to an office, not a fuck-fest—plain wrap shirt, tight jeans, soft flats. Nothing loud. Nothing begging. Still, her nerves show. She says she hardly ever comes, and the first two machines prove it: steady strokes, no fire. Her body moves, but nothing catches. Then the gloves come off. Suction clamps on her clit, vibration digs deep, and an inflatable dildo swells inside her until the Bunny Fucker pounds her pussy like it owes her money. Her voice cracks on the first hard gasp. Six orgasms tear through her by the end—each one louder, messier, her whole frame shaking, words breaking up in her throat. Blonde hair sticking to sweat, brunette-root flash at the part, that last stretch pulling everything tight. She leaves wrecked and glowing.