She’s already panting by the time he grabs her hair—mascara smeared from tears that weren’t even hers to cry yet. Natasha Sub drops to her knees in the shower stall, water sluicing down her back as he shoves his thick cock past her lips without a single word of warning. No teasing, no buildup—just raw hunger. Golden liquid sprays across her face before she even gets a chance to swallow. The first gulp is messy; chin dripping as she gags on it, eyes watering not from the spray but from the sheer size stretching her throat open. He doesn’t let up—not when she gags, not when spit mixes with cum sliding down his shaft.
