PublicAgent compilation tour video
The sun beat down mercilessly as the camera pointed its unrelenting eye at the sweaty, panting couple writhing on the sun-warmed pavement. The busty brunette, her breasts exposed and bouncing freely with each thrust, let out a wanton moan that made every passing stranger do a double take. She locked eyes with the viewer, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “That’s right, you naughty boy. Watch how I take this big thick cock right here in public! Who knows who might see?”
The man below her grunted with effort, his muscular frame rippling as he powerfully drove his rigid manhood into her eager cunny, stretching it wide. The woman’s eyes rolled back in ecstasy, her heels digging into his lower back, urging him faster and deeper.
“Fuck yes, just like that!” she cried out shamelessly, her fingers tangling in her partner’s hair. “Don’t you dare stop until you fill me up with your hot cum!”
The covertly recorded public tryst continued in lurid detail, the abandoned lot providing just enough privacy for the eager fuck session. The vid continued to compilation after steamy compilation, bodies intertwined on park benches, against graffitied walls, underneath the blankets of picnic baskets while other revelers ate nearby. Each mouthwatering moment captured the raw lust and clandestine thrill of getting off in public, never knowing if you’d be “spotted” by an unsuspecting witness.
On the gritty streets of the city, the inaudible cries of ecstasy could be felt through the screen, the woman’s rounded ass bouncing and clapping as she took balls deep thrusts doggy style on the concrete. Her glistening folds gaped lewdly, catching the sweet Florescent lighting, as her partner pulled out, torching her backside with thick ropes of pearly jizz enamel.
The clip segued to the bustling boardwalk, throngs of passersby unknowingly surrounds the flamboyant pair mid-ride on the behave scooters scooting down the promenade. The woman wistfully watched her dripping pussy juices slowly roll down her heeled foot. “I can’t stand it any longer!” she suddenly declared, hopping off and pulling the rider to his feet.
exposé the red, bulbous tip just enough to give him a taste of the impending pleasure before stuffing her tender folds once more. The man obliged, his hips independently gyrating as he grips the handlebars.
“Fuck, baby! Mmmm…you feel amazing,” he said, his words slightly muffled through his double-layered face mask. “The vibrations are…oh!” She answers him with a throaty laugh, reaching to the side and shoving two eager fingers knuckle-deep into her puckered asshole in response. The buxom brunette began pumping his pulsing member with determined double-fisted strokes to the vaginal rhythm of the mechanical bull. “Come on, handsome, ride me!” she challenges breathily, eyes rolling back from the expert finger-fucking.
As their impending feats of sexual prowess grew louder and more sloppy, clearly nearing the point of no turning back, the camera angle changes, hinting at an onlooker or two stopping in their tracks. The screen captures a wide-eyed elderly woman clutching a furry leashed companion before cutting back to the sexual situation at hand. “Oh fuck, here it comes!” the brunette wails, juices squirting past her busy fingers, hips bucking in syncopation with the mounted ride’s increasing vibrations. “Give it to me!”
“Unghh…” The man grunts, ejecting one final gear as he slams home, demounting the scooter and grabbing her hips a final time, pumping his release into her with deep, scooping thrusts. The woman’s head lolls forward, satisfied, as he milks every last drop. “Ohhh… Thank you.” As he pulls out, she watches him puddle on the ground and nods. “See you ’round.” She winks. “Until next time.”
Suddenly the view changes, stakes raising to a debauched new limit. Now erect and glistening, the camera trained intently on his glistening swap with a low, drawn-out homFNfurious grunt. His engorged tip peeking out with a horny, frustrated whimper, eagerly seeking the latest mouth to suck it gleefully.
One tries to scoop it back up, pressing its bulbous tip back to her cleavage. “My bodies your temple,” she purred. “Do with them what you will.” The man wastes no time, planting a wet lick along the peak of her breasts, paying great attention to her nipples before taking a pert bud into his mouth and suckling overwhelmingly,
*****The thing about reality is that in order for something to be classified as such, its participants must be getting paid. If one of the models were to voice their arguments, which she never will, she would further claim: it is not her responsibility to keep you entertained. You are watching porn, isn’t that entertaining enough, don’t you think? Does this perhaps gloss over the fact that porn being made in the states is highly illegal, an illicit business breeding white collar criminals and model whores alike. The citation page alludes to many connotations, each lesser known and equally important. It’s a shame that such vile words would be wasted here. Nevertheless, it is a porn related article and so it gives the segregated public a reason to mumble a “fuck all the grimy bastards.” A particular comparison to the documentaries “Amy” and “Kurt Cobain About A Son” gave an inside, personal, and concrete view on the circumstance of the artists death; likewise Keith Richards in the Rolling Stones documentary “Crossfire Hurricane.” These examples were cited to convey that porn is a different form of art in its own right and not altogether separate from “high brow” art**.
“The originally captioned scene is the same scene from above, the chopping and dogging angle. The couple are inside of a house, preparing to go to a party where she is wearing this particular number and he is wearing black tactical pants. Before she applies the final touches of makeup and he puts on his gi, they decide that she wants to get ready in a private place and this particular one would serve well, so they lock the door and then the scene goes black and a bar fills top of the screen so that the chopping and slamming are the only audible sounds.
If you were an anonymous reader, what could you possibly fathom having transpired? Someone else could be in the house or the couple could be getting ready just down the hall from where the rest of the household is (most likely unnamed girlfriend of the guy). I assume that it would survive because of how well identified, dedicated Ron Jeremy was at the time and how many knew that this was coming at some point. The scene would definitely have survived, lasting throughout his life and resurfacing in the years after his passing.”*****The woman removed the cock from her mouth with a loud pop and looked directly into the camera. “Remember, kids, if you want to get into porn, call your mommy and daddy first.” She giggled before scooping up the juices from her engorged sex and licking them from her slender fingers. “Now, where were we?”*****The scene shifted to a different couple, a tall, slender woman with short blonde hair and a mousy, quiet-like demeanor, and a tall, darker-haired man. They were getting ready to go out on a Friday night on the town. The woman was wearing a short, black mini dress, the type that barely covered her ass cheeks when she bent over. The man was wearing a black button down shirt, his dark hair slicked back, and his grey eyes glowing with anticipation. They were drinking martinis, ready to go out and paint the town red.*****The blonde woman took a sip of her martini and smiled at her partner. “We have to be careful tonight,” she said softly, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. “We don’t want to end up on some idiot’s camera phone on the way home.” The man grunted in agreement, downing the rest of his drink. “Don’t worry about me, babe. I know how to keep my shit together.” She smirked and tilted her head. “Oh, I know you do. I meant don’t let me get too wild. I have a habit of attracting trouble when I’ve had too much to drink.” He chuckled and raised an eyebrow. “I like trouble. Especially the kind that wears short skirts and fuck me heels.” She laughed and slapped his arm. “Down boy. Let’s go find some real excitement tonight.” He downed the rest of his martini and grabbed her hand. “Let’s go.”
They made their way to the city’s most happening club, the bouncer nodding at the couple as they entered, his eyes lingering on the blonde’s exposed skin. Inside, the music was pulsing, the lights spinning in time to the beat. The couple found a spot on the dance floor and began to move to the music. The blonde’s body was fluid, sensuous, her arms raised above her head as she swayed. The man watched, transfixed, as she bent over to pick something up off the floor, her dress riding up to expose the small of her back.
The scene shifted to a different part of the club, a quieter area with plush couches and dim lighting. The blonde and the man were sitting on one of the couches, their heads bent close together. They were deep in conversation, oblivious to the world around them. The man had his hand on the blonde’s thigh, his fingers tracing patterns on her smooth skin. She leaned into him, her hand resting on his chest.
Suddenly, the atmosphere changed. The door to the VIP area opened and a man walked in. He was tall and muscular, with jet black hair and dark, piercing eyes. The blonde straightened up, her eyes widening as she saw him. The man leaned forward, his hand sliding further up her thigh as he watched the newcomer approach.
“Who’s that?” the man asked, a slight edge to his voice.
The blonde bit her lip, her eyes darting between the new arrival and her companion. “Nobody,” she said quickly. “Just someone I used to know.” The man’s eyes narrowed and he stood up, pulling the blonde to her feet with him. The newcomer approached, a smirk on his face.
“You’re looking well, Aimee,” he said, his voice smooth and low. “It’s been a while.” The blonde’s companion tensed, his hand tightening on her arm. “She’s not Aimee anymore,” he said coldly. “Leave her alone.” The newcomer laughed, a dark sound. “Oh, I don’t think so. Aimee and I have a history, don’t we?” He leaned in closer, his gaze never leaving the blonde’s face. “A history that doesn’t just go away.” The blonde’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. “Please,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Leave me alone.” But the newcomer was already gone, melting back into the crowd, leaving the blonde shaken and the man angry. What had happened, the reader was left to wonder…
