Candidate #34

Savannah West walks in wearing a short black dress, hair tight against her skull. Maestro sits waiting. He tells her to strip. She does it fast. No hesitation. He binds her wrists behind her back and bends her over the table. The camera catches her spine arching, muscles tight, every line of her body pulled long and hard. He takes his time. Opens her with his fingers first. Then he fucks her ass. Slow, deep strokes that make her grunt and push back for more. The cuffs bite into her wrists. She doesn’t care. She keeps taking it, breath ragged, hips jerking each time he slams home. The light hits sweat on her skin. He grabs her hair, yanks her head back, and keeps pounding. Athletic frame flexing, jaw clenched, eyes half-closed. The rhythm builds. He doesn’t let up. She meets every thrust like she needs it. No words, just the wet slap of skin and the low sounds she can’t hold back. In 2009 this one still looks raw. Big dick stretching her open, her ass gripping him on every pull. He finishes inside her. When he steps back the shot stays on her trembling body, bound, used, still hungry for it.