Lazy Fuck and A BIG FACIAL – Amateur Couple Dread Hot

Look, this ain’t no high-class, vanilla shit. I’m talking raw, unfiltered, nasty reality. You wanna know all about what goes on in “Lazy Fuck and A BIG FACIAL – Amateur Couple Dread Hot”? Strap in, because this ain’t a ride for the squeamish or faint-hearted.

So there’s this rugged, rough-looking dude going by the name “Dread Hot”. Now, he ain’t your typical pretty boy. His face is a map of hard-knocks, with a few scars etched in from God knows what. And those dreads? Looks like they been through hell and back. But damn if they don’t suit him.

His girl’s name is Kylie, and she’s the kind you can’t help but stare at. Built like a fucking brick house, with tits and ass for days. Skinny little waist and hips that don’t lie – she’s packing some serious artillery in those parts. She’s got this sultry, “I’ll suck your soul through your dick” look in her eyes, like she knows exactly what you’re thinking.

The video starts off casual as fuck. They’re just hanging out, shooting the shit, when Dread decisions to unleash his serpent. Fuck, it’s a beast! Thick, pulsing with veins, heavy as a fucking anvil. And look at that shit, uncut and raw, hanging out like it’s ready for war. Kylie don’t waste no time – she’s on her knees quicker than a cheetah chasing a gazelle. She looks up at him with those bedroom eyes, grabs his shaft, and starts fisting that monster.

Shit, the way she works that thing is art in motion. Her soft, wet mouth is a vortex of pleasure, pulling him in deeper with every bob of her head. She’s slobbering all over his dick like a starving animal, her hand working what she can’t fit. Fuck, the sounds she’s making, all these moans and slurps hitting the mic. It’s like music to my ears.

Dread ain’t playing either. He’s holding her head steady, fucking her throat like a piston, diving in balls deep. You can see her eyes rolling back, tears leaking down her cheeks, but she don’t tap out. She’s taking that shit like a champ.

But wait, what’s this now? He pulls out, a strand of spit connecting from the tip to her lips, and then WHAM! Sweat drops are rolling down his face, and she’s throwing her head back, screaming like a bitch in heat, “Fuck me! Fuck me now!” They scramble back to the couch, tongue-wrestling like certified maniacs.

He flips her, bending her over the armrest. Her big, pillowy ass is hanging over the edge, swaying back and forth, like it’s talking shit. “Hit me,” she whispers, “spank this ass real good.” Does he? You best fucking believe he does. SMACK! SMACK! Whatever red handprint he leaves blooms so hot and angry, it’s septic bliss.

He lines up, shielding his mouth like he’s about to take the longest pull of a blunt. And fucking SLAM! He rails her with no warm-up, no setup, straight ball-deep dick piercery. She howls, her voice breaking as he wrecks her guts, hammering into her like a jackhammer on cement. Her tits are swinging wildly, like big juicy apples hanging from a tree.

They go at it, tempers and bodies building sweat, yet never losing rhythm. It’s a symphony of skin slapping against skin, wetness purring and roaring. She’s the only one churning out the symphony of sin, the maestro leading the crescendo. “Harder!” Cue heavier, faster, blows; electric whips against a BBDSC -big, black, dumb submissive cunt.

They switch to different positions – missionary, doggy, standing even – each new angle just begging the question, “How deep can he go?” As they reach their climax, they find themselves splayed out on the floor. His thighs are slapping a rhythm against her ass cheeks with a snap-crackle-pop electricity between, as he hastily chases his nut, balls clapping together in harmonious preparation.

And then, BLAMMO! The big finish. With a crow’s caw like a death threat, he jerks out, his serpent springing like a jack-in-the-box, and paints her face with streaks of ivory, his nut catching like an athlete at the Olympics. He straddles her, his glazed cock hanging inches from her upturned face, rivers of cum streaming down her neck and cleaned-up sophistication. Shit. He really just lotion poppin’ her for real, like fucking Hallmark cards.

They lay there, a knot of tangled limbs and sweaty skin, panting like a couple of dogs in heat. He’s too wiped out to move, so he just hovers over her, cum still glistening on her smooth skin. You can just about make out her vibrating cum-laden smile, almost like a Mona Lisa. I mean, this is how you know someone’s your lifer. That look right there – pure bliss, made after two have fucked so hard, they can’t even speak to each other.

So, that’s your disgusting, horny vicarious thrill. There you go. Don’t blame me for the Tahoe-length tent in your pants or the gray hair on your head from spankin’ the meat. You’re welcome.