Katie St. Ives

Katie St. Ives looks half-dazed when the cameras roll. She’s fresh, wide-eyed, still learning how deep these machines can go. The Little Guy hums to life between her thighs and her eyes widen even more. Then her hips jerk hard. A sudden gush sprays out of her, soaking the mat. Her mouth falls open in shock, like she’s never done that before. The first spray is followed by another, each one making her whole body twitch. She tries to keep still, but the machine won’t quit. Her legs shake so hard the crew has to lay her down before she folds. They ease her onto a mat, sweat shining on her skin. Even then the tremors keep coming. She breathes out a shaky laugh, half-proud, half-wrecked. One more round on the machines sounds good in theory, but she’s empty. The crew wraps early.