Straddling his face with a smirk, the silver-haired masseuse pins his head between her thick thighs and rides his tongue slow and deliberate. Her lace bra strains against heavy tits as she leans forward, hands braced on the massage table edge. His muffled gagging mixes with the hum of the aromatherapy diffuser, the red lighting casting shadows as she takes her time. Switching to deep squats, she grinds until his breath comes in ragged bursts. Blake Blossom doesn’t just give facesitting—she owns it, her body moving with practiced control while he struggles to keep up.
