Erika Kole Bod Bag Fuck

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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 spandex with a bubblehead. Only her lips can be seen. This is how you know it's human. By the lips. He elevates up this black body-like object by the ankles. An inflatable gag ass-plugs that single opening, the one thru which we watch her lips. Her breath wheezes in and out thru a petite tube. Humidity condenses. Spit leisurely obstructs her one link with the outward world. A vibrator's zipped into the spandex bag, whirring against her pussy. She comes. Alone. She's nude now. We can watch she's a she, her ankles opened up wide. He whips her back and ass, wrapping the apex of the cane in the direction of her slit and cunt. Then he turns her over and whips her other side. She comes highly fastly when she's banged with Mr. Pogo. He intensifies the pose and slams his arm in her cunt. The vagina bj's at him, attempting to pull him in. She comes again. Now seated, U-bolts lock down her thighs. A iron band cock-squeezing around her waist matches the Garrote at her throat, keeping her plastered to the post. Mr. Pogo fucks her mouth, then her ass. As the electro-hitachi whispers in her pussy, she begs to come. Afterward, her pussy's open and loose, unfurled. Vacuum tubes gargle her breasts, distending her nipples. Her vacuumed slit grows enormous and bright red. After encountering a sadomasochistic and twisted PD, Erica's blessed and playful, flapping her tongue at world.