He Shoots He Scores

Jack's muscles are screaming after that brutal hockey game, and his cheap-ass team owner won't spring for a real massage. So he struts into this steamy parlor, where Monica's waiting with a grin that says she knows her way around a stick. She's a hockey nut—talks slapshots and power plays like she owns the rink. Before long, she's got him stripped and slicked up, her hands working magic on his thighs. But Monica's not stopping at sore spots. She peels off her top, letting those full tits bounce free, and whispers how she's dying to check his body with hers. Jack's hooked—her naked curves pressing in, seducing him straight into overtime. She drops to her knees, grabs his throbbing cock, and dives in with high-sticking oral, sucking him deep and hard like she's owning the puck. Tongue swirling, lips locked tight, she milks every groan out of him. Then she climbs on, guiding him into her tight, major-league pussy—wet, gripping, ready to ride. She bucks wild, tits heaving, and Jack can't hold back. He shoots! He scores! Burying deep as he unloads, her walls clenching victory around him.