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Jessie from Toy Story (Ahegao BJ + Anal): 150+ images in download-link

Added 2025-05-12 17:00:05 +0000 UTC

He thought he was in charge.

It was cute, really — the way he followed me into the garden like a good boy, eyes glued to my ass in these tight little cutoff shorts, pretending like he wasn’t ready to beg the moment I bent over to “check the tomatoes.”

The garden was quiet except for the buzzing of bees, the rustle of tall grass, and the hum between my thighs. Spring heat clung to my skin, sticky and sweet, and I could feel his gaze burning into the back of my legs like sunlight.

I turned around slow, one brow raised, hands on my hips.

“You gonna keep looking,” I teased, “or are you gonna get on your knees and be useful?”

He blinked. Swallowed. Nodded.

Good boy.

I sank onto the edge of the stone bench between the flower beds, spreading my legs just enough for him to see I wasn’t wearing a thing underneath those shorts. His breath caught. I smiled.

“You want a taste?”

He nodded again, too eager to form words. I tugged him by the shirt until he was kneeling between my thighs, lips already parting, hands resting on my hips like prayer.

And when his tongue finally met me, I let out a soft moan and pulled his hair tight.

“Slow,” I whispered. “I want to ride your face, not finish in thirty seconds.”

He obeyed.

I ground myself against him with long, slow rolls of my hips, holding him there — not letting him breathe too easily, not letting him pull away. The power? Delicious. The pressure? Perfect. His tongue worked like he needed to please me, and I let him.

I came hard — body clenching, thighs trembling around his head — and I didn’t let him go.

Not yet.

I pushed him back onto the grass and climbed on top of him, straddling him like I was settling into my saddle.

“You’re not the only one who can take it back there,” I whispered, reaching between us and guiding him right where I wanted. His eyes widened — not with fear, but pure, desperate awe.

I lowered myself slowly. Controlled. Eyes locked on his.

He moaned — loud. I didn’t.

I just smiled as I rocked my hips with lazy confidence, letting him feel every tight inch, every slow squeeze, while the garden bloomed around us like we were the center of the earth.

He couldn’t keep his eyes open.
His hands scrambled for something to grip.
His mouth dropped open, a choked sound leaving his throat like he was already undone.

I leaned forward, lips brushing his ear.

“Who’s in charge now, sweetheart?”

He couldn’t answer.
Didn’t have to.
His body said everything.

And I rode him harder — not to chase my pleasure… but to own his.

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