Passionate Morning Sex And Creampie With Amateur Babe NoFaceGirl
Title: A Saucy Morning Awakening with NoFaceGirl
As the sun’s first rays peeked through the blinds, illuminating the intimate bedroom, there lay a young, nubile beauty named Candy, still nestled in the warm, inviting embrace of her bedsheets. Her delicate features were perfectly framed by a mass of tousled chocolate curls splayed across the pillow. Unaware of the Hunger Gawking at her through the camera lens, she slowly stirred, stretching languidly like a feline. A sleepy smile played across her full, pouty lips as she aimed a languid kick at the cool, empty side of the mattress beside her. Where was that handsome Casanova who had ignited a firestorm of passion in her loins mere hours ago?
The erotic memories of the night before came flooding back, propelling the pulse of her dwindling arousal. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t invented reasons to stay up a little longer, maybe an extra load of laundry or a “quick” round of Words With Friends, secretly hoping he’d contact her first. The longest minutes ticked by one by one until finally the scintillating slideshow of the night’s intimate proceedings lit up her phone screen. With moans and gasps stifled by her pillow, Candy remaindered the jaw-dropping exploits via the many well-lit photos that hadsexually punctuated their marathon love-making session.
The first got her nostril’s twitching when she remembered joking, “Oh my God! I don’t even recognize myself looking this…” And then it continued:
His firm, capable hands kneading and relishing her spirit’s surge,
The metallic clutch of that zipper being yanked down,
The zipper being pulled down,
His heated breath breaching the final inches of space between,
And shallow, frenzied breathing and declarations sending tremors up her spine,
Through her blonde, feather-light hair, his lips inching forward to too obvious a crescendo.
Her heart stuttered as she recalled their offering her legs—taut and curled into a dish of pleasure, where concerted breathing and a towel displaced mats of fiery hair, and Castro to Marvin Gaye? Okay, maybe just Gaye?
Candy raked her tongue across her lips and curled her knees towards her chest as she snuck a hand between her jiggling thighs to quell the clenching started by the recollection. Rather than affront, there was the ghost of his touch. Her fingers glided over slick flesh, tracing the same path that calloused hands had mapped just hours before. A feverish weightlessness overtook her; just as before, altered by his presence, blind to rational thought. Just as she began to remember what preceded the best decision she’d ever made—a chance conversation with this stranger, the saltiness of his tongue along her neck, the squeeze of his strong hands along her sides, his name a litany on her lips—there was an insistent buzz from the nightstand, signaling an incoming video call. Candy pulled the phone free from beneath her knee and accepted the call, vivid color flushing from hyper-accelerated blood flow.
Up popped the face of the most gorgeous man Candy had ever seen. He had full lips, strong angular features, and piercing eyes. “Sleeping beauty, my beauty,” he said, with a sly grin that could melt the panties off a nun. To her absolute shock, he somehow looked hotter than she remembered him from last night.
“Hey there,” was all Candy could manage to stammer before he pounced, the sensation of him falling on her, a rabid animal in search of a blood bag. She squealed as his wet mouth took possession of her throat, his teeth and tongue delightfully wreaking havoc on her biggest erogenous zone. He fumbled with the elastic of her leggings, pausing.
“Is this okay?” he breathed.
Candy looked over him splayed above her. He was smiling a crooked grin that made her heart race. His hair was damp from the springs mid-shower freshness and his copper skin had a golden sheen in the sunlight.
“This is just about the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she said.
His face became impish. “Even better than the morning cream pie?”
Oh, he was such a gloating asshole. Aren’t they all? But sexy, deliciously so.
The gloating, that deserved another slap, so Candy did, full force.
His prick jumped in outrage, slamming against her gut, but there was no time for subtly for an all-in, balls-ass destiny prick.
It was so toppled already, the turgid head bright purple and leaking, his excuses already so overwhelmed.
Once he righted himself, he groaned out, “That’s a lot of come.” It was certainly more than the last spurt, certainly less than the solid white ropes or the thick golden flood. He blew through one tooth except for a snot, M rocket passenger arrest the plow … it was a lewd cluck of a bustle in his quarters of his black golds.
“That’s all of me,” he reared up and rubbed the goo off her rigid tummy and smacked the glob back and forth to her gasps. “That’s my friend exploding the stringy load out while you were very friendly and a good little cum rag this morning.”
He worked the swollen skin to work the sticky to the mouthing turn sloshing hot. Candy raised a hand and shove it into her hole and pulled a last trick or cream pudding blow streaming hair down nervously, and then his palms streaking through an inside gagging swallow his cunt juices. She matched his pace and they were two drying touch in his pussy and he was suddenly pounding her like an animal and then she was coming in his arms with his cock coming up in her pussy filling her so full of seed she was causing only to moan and cum and be split by the hands.
She swallowed a large amount of cum and the darkness bloomed and then she knew nothing else until later that noon when she’d push her fingers inside her soaking, dribbling hole and come around probing digits, his seed spilling down her thighs with a sigh.
