Unmasking Marilyn Johnson

Marilyn Johnson ripped off her clothes, rejecting the mask VR porn restriction with defiant hunger. Naked, she moved toward him, hands grabbing his belt instantly. His fingers latched onto her hips, yanking her close until her bare skin pressed against his. She shoved him backward onto the desk, grinding hard as she tore his shirt open. Her nails scored his chest, then slipped lower, pulling his pants down with sharp, impatient tugs. She knelt between his legs, lips crashing on him before her tongue flicked and sucked, hands twisting his hair to force his head deeper. Her mouth worked furiously, swallowing him until he grunted, gripping her hair tighter. Without pause, she stood and pushed him flat, straddling his lap while her hands clawed his shoulders. Grinding down, she impaled herself, hips rolling hard over his, slamming again and again until he groaned loud enough to echo off the walls. She rode him fast, relentless, biting her lip as she bounced, sinking lower on every thrust.