Peachy Keen Films-Space Monk Surprise

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Space Monk Surprise. Starring Stevie Lix

Kitten Slotts, wonderful realm agent 0069 has been deployed by the S.P.Y. Bureau on a mission to plow xxxx palace and meet with “Back of Throat” an undercover mole informant well-prepped to unveil gentle secrets for the right price. Lil' does she know, she’s been followed by the mystical molester, Space Monk - a sextuple agent working for super-criminal terrorist organization B.A.D.D.

Space Monk materializes, surprising the stunned Slotts with blows to her slick, latex-sheathed, finely-honed assets. After predominant her with an organ-rupturing torrent of crushes, a left hook to her open facehole knocks her to the floor, dazedly wriggling on the floor in anguish. A squirt of his mind powers disabling her resistance constantly, Space Monk unbuckles 0069’s skintight catsuit, tugging her unveiled bosoms before commanding her to get down on all fours. Weak to stand against, overwhelmed and compliant, she complies Space Monk’s monastic orders, deep-throating his wakening member into pulsating gagging hazard with taunting drains of her flexible tongue, enclosed in the red-hot humidity of her greedy jaws.

Angry veins pulsating with superior sensation, Kitten takes the shitty lancing of Space monk’s aggressive pound instrument deep into her twitching mouth - her quivering figure wracked with convulsive tries to cough up the life threateningly ample pillar, but only greasing its deepening foray with viscous phlegm while her hatch betrays her survival instinct, furiously spitting as it attempts to gargle him entire into her.

A moment before sinking Kitten, Space Monk pulls his length from her cream crammed hatch as her tongue humidly flails, capturing at the withdrawing man sausage, seeming to favor the oppressive mass over the rest of her body’s survival. Munching, smooching, smearing it’s running in rivulets length over her face, Kitten recovers her breath lengthy enough to be rewarded with a perverse skull-fucking. Spewing lengthy cables of their mingled fluid, the throat-goring attack tightens Space Monk’s ballsack and the enormous gasping load of glue-thick jizm crams her mouth. Keeping agent 0069’s awareness hostage at the edge of life-ending dread and bewildered gusto, Space Monk takes Kitty’s head in both arms, hard-on still deep in her uselessly retching facehole and hauls her incapacitated bod via the floor, driving her skull with repeated bashing into the nearby sofa. Concussed and oxygen abandoned, her tantalized esophagus packing with slaver and jism, Kitty’s last living awareness is her every muscle grimacing in fading power as her lungs and mouth overflow with a 2nd searingly molten fountain of from his lethal weapon.