Trina Michaels

Back in college, I geeked out on the raw deal black guys have gotten forever and scribbled a manifesto on evening the score. But I skipped the part where I'd strut LA's gritty blocks in next to nothing, my tight ass cheeked out under a thong thinner than a whisper. Fantasizing about ravaging that prime black meat, knowing my snug pink slit—spoiled by puny white pricks—would get wrecked like a sledgehammer on a peanut shell. Hell yeah, I craved the chaos. Chatted up those ripped, hot black studs first, getting in their minds before flipping their world. Damn lucky my thighs are ironclad for all that squat-action face-fucking from Billy Banks, Broc Adams, D. Snoop, Hooks, Lefty, Prodigy X, Tone Capone, and Trina Michaels owning the show. Black cocks slapping my cheeks, sucking every heavy set of balls. My dripping cunt screamed yes as I guzzled over three feet of thick black shaft till I tapped out. Bet I'm the queen of milking black dick—whaddya say?