Kneeling on the plush white rug with her red blazer open, Dee Williams stares up with hungry eyes before wrapping her lips around a thick shaft. The wet slapping sound of her face hitting his thighs echoes through the room as she takes him deep, her throat muscles constricting around the head with every frantic gulp. She is a natural at handling a massive horn, sliding her tongue along the underside and swirling it around the tip until he is slick with her spit. Mascara smears slightly as her eyes water from the depth of the intrusion, yet she refuses to pull away for more than a second — the rhythm of her breathing grows heavy and ragged as she works to fit every inch inside.
