Anal Virginity Videos
Gaping Training
Tracy shuffles down the sidewalk toward Bill's place, every step careful like she doesn't want anything moving an inch. Bill swings the door open, grins when he spots her, then bends her over the couch and pops the plug free for a peek. The little ring of pink twitches while Tracy yelps, cheeks burning. "Uncomfortable? Good," he growls. "First times are supposed to be. You want Daddy's dick, you keep training that hole." Later that night she's at the dinner table with her real dad, wincing every time she shifts. "You okay, kiddo?" he asks. She waves it off, tells him to eat. Her phone buzzes—Bill wants a pussy shot right now, then one of her fingering herself under the tablecloth. Heart pounding, she slips a hand between her legs, works two fingers in, snaps the pic, and sends it before Dad looks over. Next shift at the diner she can barely stand still, the plug grinding with every tray she carries. Coworker leans in, asks if she's sick. "Cramps," she lies, then bolts to the restroom when Bill texts for an update. She snaps fresh pics of her stretched little gape and hits send. That night Bill replies: she's ready for the filthy plans he's made.
Tracy shuffles down the sidewalk toward Bill's place, every step careful like she doesn't want anything moving an inch. Bill swings the door open, grins when he spots her, then bends her over the couch and pops the plug free for a peek. The little ring of pink twitches while Tracy yelps, cheeks burning. "Uncomfortable? Good," he growls. "First times are supposed to be. You want Daddy's dick, you keep training that hole." Later that night she's at the dinner table with her real dad, wincing every time she shifts. "You okay, kiddo?" he asks. She waves it off, tells him to eat. Her phone buzzes—Bill wants a pussy shot right now, then one of her fingering herself under the tablecloth. Heart pounding, she slips a hand between her legs, works two fingers in, snaps the pic, and sends it before Dad looks over. Next shift at the diner she can barely stand still, the plug grinding with every tray she carries. Coworker leans in, asks if she's sick. "Cramps," she lies, then bolts to the restroom when Bill texts for an update. She snaps fresh pics of her stretched little gape and hits send. That night Bill replies: she's ready for the filthy plans he's made.