Amy Brooke

Craving a thick slab of beef? Hit up a grill. But for prime dark chocolate log, swing by the station—prime spot for roughneck studs packing serious swingers. My dude's puny pecker couldn't scratch an itch, let alone quench mine, so I sent that wimp on a mission to snag a real beast for me to ride till I howl. He whined like the total pansy he is, but damn if he didn't deliver Wesley Pipes and his monster ebony schlong. Back at the pad, I locked his sorry ass in a cage so he couldn't sneak a thrill. After roasting his ego, I dove balls-first on that juicy black rod, slurping so fierce my skull throbbed—totally worth the rush. That throbbing beast eyed my snatch and backdoor, turning me into the ultimate BBC junkie grinning ear to ear. I had cucky hold my cheeks wide for Wes to plow straight in—no more tight fit for these holes. Who knew the loser had one use? My fresh dark stallion hammered home, my moans blasting his ears off. Party peaked when Wesley hosed my booty with ropes of hot seed, and that fag had cleanup duty on his knees.