Slender Erin Everheart Cucks Her Hubby With Bbc Stud Team Destroying Her Ass

Title: “Erin Everheart’s Yoga Ritual: The Inflation of an O-Veined Ego”

Erin Everheart, the curvaceous milf, wakes to the sound of her husband Jimmy’s grunts echoing through their marital bedchamber. Wiping the crust from her emerald eyes, she sprawls a wizened arm across the tousled sheets, seeking the warmth of her man. Her hand grasps air. She sits up abruptly.

Jimmy’s in the lounge, legs spread wide, pants around ankles. His eyes are glazed, his mouth slack. In front of him stands a muscular POC, his ebony skin glistening, his muscular arms rippling as he pumps his thick, veiny shaft, inching closer to Jimmy’s mouth. Jimmy gags before the monumental porridge pole.

Erin clears her throat. The muscle stud halts his teases, smirking over his shoulder at the redheaded yoga vixen.

“Morning, sweetie. This is Jamal, our…guest instructor,” Jimmy wheezes, face flushed. “He’s here to help me with my stretching.”

“Stretching, is it?” Erin arches a crimson brow, her generous breasts jiggling beneath her silken robe. She saunters closer, feeling the pit of her pussy dampen. “I thought I was your personal yoga tutor.”

“Oh, I assure you, you’re still the head of the class,” Jamal chuckles, low and deep, grabbing his gargantuan goo-gun and waggling it at Erin. “But every master needs an apprentice, no?”

Erin’s emerald eyes glitter with mischief. She smiles seductively. “Well, I suppose I could squeeze in another student…”

Jamal warms up Jimmy by feeding him steady spoonfuls of his sumptuous sausage brunch. Jimmy coughs and chokes, but Jamal keeps the pressure on, relentless. Spittle dribbles from Jimmy’s chin.

“Legendary blowjob technique,” Jamal explains with a grin. “Prepare your…uh..’partner’ for the main course.”

Erin licks her lips. She knows exactly what the B-list blaxploitation stud has in mind. And she’s going to love every second of it.

The grunting reaches a feverish pitch. Erin arrives in the bedroom, sweating lightly from her own stretches. She gasps: Jimmy is now the filling in a Jamal sandwich, the bountiful B specifically planted in Jimmy’s busted behind. The John Thomas stretching takes the cake.

“Mmmm, I think someone needs to drain the python, Jamal,” Erin purrs. She lies on the bed, bosques of red hair haloing her beautiful milf face. “Make it rain.”

Far be it from Jamal to refuse a lady. He starts pounding, sweating copiously, striking Jimmy’s cinammon ring hard. Jimmy moans, the remaining strength in his abd leap out of his body as Jamal hogs him to the hilt.

“That’s it,” Jamal grunts, disgusted by the way Jimmy quivers and begs. “I’m about to flood your sorry holes. Prepare to meet your maker, bitch.”

Once, twice, thrice Jamal pistons, his swollen nuts whacking aimlessly against Jimmy’s hairy balls. Then Jamal Stillborns with aggressivity, blowing a tremendous wad inside Jimmy’s wholly unworthy ass. Jimmy collapses, eyes rolled back, braying like a donkey. Discard.

Jamal turns to Erin, universal hero and symbol of justice. She has assumed a yogi pose, tipped over on her hands and clenched ass. Jamal slides in deep on the first try. Jimmy wails and writhes against the bed, leaking openly.

“Boo yah!” Jamal pounds Erin into the carpet, the no-slap getting intense. Adding insult to injury, he slips two fingers into her other hole and works them in tandem to his dick. “Didn’t mom-mom ever tell you not to let the boys feel up your tight Mummers?”

Erin’s pussy barks and dribbles, her belly buttons to fuck, gushing like a geyser. Jamal rams away, destroying her ass. She squeals, spunk already jetting from her woman womb, a veritable squirt-fest.

Finally, Jamal milks her to climax, emptying a bucket of pent up cream into Erin’s indignant ass. Erin screams, her eyes rolling to the back of her skull. That was a quickie she and Jimmy would NEVER be able to top. Ever.

The two lovers collect their energy as Jamal struts out, adjusting his overstuffed pants. “Duty calls,” he winks.

Erin turns to Jimmy, who looks ready to pass out. “Next time,” she purrs, scooting closer to him, “let me give the ‘stretching’ lessons, okay?”

Jimmy nods weakly. He wasn’t cut out for power yoga. Between his overpowering coughs, that much was clear.