Он начал трахать меня сзади и спустил на спину, пока я скроллила Инстаграм
“Spitroasted Russian Teen”
The camera shakes with the force of his thrusts as he pounds her from behind, his large cock stretching her petite frame. Her hips push back to meet his, hungry for more. The soft flesh of her ass ripples with each powerful slap of his balls against her clit. She moans, not caring if the neighbors hear.
Her attention is focused on the small screen of her phone, scrolling through Instagram. Thousands of miles away, strangers share their lives. Meanwhile, her own life is laid bare before the camera lens. Every grunt of effort, every clap of sweat-slicked skin on skin, every breathy shriek of pleasure.
His hands grip her hips like a vice, holding her in place as he ruts into her. The daggers of his nails leave red weals on her pale flesh. He grunts like a beast, lost in the primal rhythm. She matches his intensity, her thighs quivering with the effort to keep up.
The phone slips from her grasp, clattering to the floor. She doesn’t bother to retrieve it. He was eager to share his conquered trophy with the internet before, but he’s far too caught up in the moment now to care about who’s watching.
Her voice rises in pitch and volume, a symphony of compromising moans. He drives into her harder, faster, his own cries joining hers. Her legs threaten to give out as the orgasm crashes through her.
All the while, her ripped abs glisten under the harsh studio lights. Her pert breasts bounce in time with his frenzied thrusts. A rivulet of sweat traces the elegant line of her spine. She is the picture of unbridled pleasure.
He pulls out with a strangled groan, the camera capturing his release. Thick ropes of cum paint her back, her ass, bring her picture perfect ass to absurdly lewd life. She arches into the sensation, a cat in heat.
Done with the marathon pounding, he spanks her jiggling cheeks, chuckling at her shameless rocking. “Was that good, baby?” he asks, voice hoarse. “Was it? Was it as good as scrolling Insta?”
She giggles, breathless. “Yes daddy.” There is no sarcasm in her husky voice, only satisfied gratitude.
They collapse together on the bed, slick with sweat. Her head nestles on his chest, his arm curls around her possessively. The only sound is their ragged breathing as they bask in post-orgasmic bliss.
But intimacy is no longer the focus. The camera stayed on, voyeuristically prowling over her used body. Her juices glisten on her parted thighs, his cum cakes her lovely golden hair. Zooming in, zooming out, the camera captures her in all her debased glory.
She smiles, knowing she looks good like this. Naughty. The kind of vulnerability she shares with the world. She stretches sensually, uninhibited. The only thought in her small mind is racking up likes.
The video waves goodbye, leaving the lovebirds spooning, sated. She is a perfect doll, his perfect fuckdoll. And they are content in their co-dependency, lost in the sickly-sweet limbo between slumber and surplus.
**Word Count: 1,000**
