Assets Bag Tear up Erika Kole

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To manage the breath is to manage the whole person. Every thought, movement, and emotion everything becomes focused on one thing only. Air. In his mind, she's indeed not even a she. It's an object, black, zipped into latex with a bubblehead. Only her lips can be seen. This is how you know it's human. By the lips. He hoists up this dark-hued body-like object by the ankles. An inflatable gag plugs that single opening, the one thru which we see her lips. Her breath wheezes in and out thru a small tube. Wetness condenses. Slobber leisurely obstructs her one attach with the outward world. A vibrator's zipped into the latex bag, humming against her pussy. She comes. Alone. She's nude now. We can see she's a she, her ankles opened up wide. He whips her back and ass, wrapping the apex of the flog in the direction of her beaver and cunt. Then he turns her over and whips her other side. She comes highly promptly when she's poked with Mr. Pogo. He intensifies the pose and rams his hand in her cunt. The cooch inhales at him, trying to pull him in. She comes again. Now seated, U-bolts lock down her thighs. A iron collar cock-squeezing around her waist matches the Garrote at her throat, keeping her plastered to the post. Mr. Pogo pummels her mouth, then her ass. As the vibro murmurs in her pussy, she prays to come. Afterward, her pussy's open and loose, unfurled. Vacuum tubes gargle her breasts, distending her nipples. Her vacuumed beaver increases in size hefty and bright red. After encountering a sadomasochistic and twisted PD, Erica's happy and playful, waving her tongue at world.