You Little Squirt! - Lilith Grace & Charles Dera

Charles sat there, pissed off and pacing, while Lilith tried not to smirk. She'd gone to the clubhouse cause he wanted his buddies to take turns stretching her out, and she delivered—hard. Ended up soaking half their sacred bike posters and trophy cups. Now the whole crew was icy and Charles had a boner he couldn't use without catching shit. He told her, straight up, her cunt had to get with the program or they were done sneaking around every wet mess. Couple days later she's bragging she "got it handled," voice all sugary, thighs already shiny. Charles caved, yanked her shorts down and slid in deep—smooth at first, then harder, fingers digging bruises into her hips. She took every inch, whispering how good it felt getting used. Then it happened. Big, nasty gush, spraying down his balls and the couch like a busted fire hydrant. Lilith bit her lip, half-laughing, half-blushing. Charles just groaned, gripped her throat and kept pounding, cock sliding slicker every pump while another smaller burst soaked his stomach. "Fuckin' knew it," he snarled, but he didn't stop. Not till her thighs were trembling and the floor looked like they’d pressure-washed the whole place.