The FakeHub audition was already off the rails. Charlie Dean, a knockout PAWG with a smile that could melt glaciers, was supposed to be reading lines. Instead, she was running her hands down her curves, the delicate lingerie barely containing her huge tits. "So," she purred, her voice thick with invitation, "do I get the part?"
The director, usually composed, was sweating bullets. He'd seen thousands of girls, but Charlie… Charlie was different. He cleared his throat. "You're… certainly making a strong impression, Ms. Dean."
Charlie giggled, a sound that vibrated through the small room. She leaned forward, her big boobs practically spilling out. "Impress me," she whispered, grabbing his tie and tugging him closer. "Show me what you'd do with this." Before he could answer, she'd already unzipped his pants, her eyes blazing with a nympho hunger.
What followed was pure, unadulterated chaos. Charlie, it turned out, wasn't just beautiful; she was a sex tornado. Her mouth was a weapon, her ass a hypnotic force. She rode him like a wild stallion, screaming his name as she came, a glorious mess of sweat and passion. The blowjob was epic, drawing every last drop of pleasure from him. Then, on her knees, begging for more, she presented her magnificent big butt, inviting a pounding she so clearly craved.
He obliged, of course. Every thrust was met with a throaty moan, every slap of skin a rhythmic symphony of lust. The cumshot, when it came, was explosive, covering her face in a thick, creamy reward. Charlie Dean was a star, and she'd earned it.
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