Calienté rode slowly up and down the thick prong of Hammer’s cock. She was so deliciously filled that she could almost ignore the aching fullness of her own cock that was leaking a stream of precum that had caused her balls to be soaked, and even Hammer’s stomach to have a puddle of the slippery stuff on it.

She clenched her internal muscles trying to feel every millimeter of the long hot probe that rubbed something deep within her so pleasurably that she knew she was as addicted to riding Hammer’s cock as she might have been to the street drugs that she knew were widely and easily available in the neighborhood where she lived and worked. But she didn’t care. She would suck Hammer’s cock until it was harder than Chinese arithmetic and then ride it as often as he wanted her to do it. Perhaps, she thought the contrast between the pain of resisting the man whose prick she rode and the pleasure of submission had something to do with her willingness to be his sex slave, she didn’t know all she knew was that she wanted more pleasure. And the way to get it was to suck or fuck Hammer or those he sent to see her.