My Fantasy with Rocco Siffredi - 6

I never thought my wildest fantasy would come true, but there I was, on my knees in a dimly lit hotel room in Milan, heart pounding as Rocco Siffredi towered over me. His massive cock, thick and veined like a goddamn weapon, throbbed inches from my lips. "Suck it, bella," he growled in that husky Italian accent, grabbing a fistful of my hair and guiding me forward. I opened wide, my mouth stretching around his girth, saliva dripping down my chin as I gagged on the first few inches. He didn't hold back—thrusting deeper, fucking my throat until tears streamed down my face and my pussy clenched with desperate need. He yanked me up, spinning me around to face the mirror. "Look at yourself, slut," he commanded, ripping my panties aside and slamming his huge dick balls-deep into my soaking wet cunt in one brutal stroke. I screamed, my tits bouncing wildly as he pounded me from behind, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. Every thrust stretched me to my limits, his balls slapping against my clit, building that fire until I was begging, "Harder, Rocco! Fuck me like your dirty whore!" He laughed darkly, spanking my ass red before flipping me onto the bed, spreading my legs wide. Now he was devouring my pussy, his tongue flicking my swollen clit while three thick fingers plunged inside, curling to hit my G-spot relentlessly. I came explosively, squirting all over his face, but he wasn't done. Mounting me missionary-style, he pinned my wrists above my head and railed me mercilessly, his sweat-slicked body grinding against mine. "Cum for me again," he demanded, and I did—over and over—as he filled me with his hot load, pumping rope after rope deep inside until it leaked out around his still-hard cock. This was my fantasy #6 with the legend himself—raw, relentless, and utterly addictive. I can't wait for more.