African Sex Goddess Breeds White Cock
271,339 99%
Ebony African supermodel Zaawaadi pleasures Bangkok with her hot pink snatch. Those tits are perky perfection as she rides that dick for a deep creampie.
2 years ago
,jpeg/022/128/028/v2/320x180.240.jpg)
,jpeg/021/769/940/v2/320x180.235.jpg)
,jpeg/021/156/542/v2/320x180.207.jpg)
,jpeg/021/496/475/1280x720.9.jpg)
,jpeg/019/953/745/1280x720.c.jpg.v1622714520)
,jpeg/022/436/056/1280x720.c.jpg.v1660086064)
,jpeg/022/791/693/v2/320x180.220.jpg)
,jpeg/022/687/848/1280x720.c.jpg.v1666883672)
,jpeg/022/562/538/1280x720.c.jpg.v1663616360)
,jpeg/025/257/840/v2/320x180.208.jpg)
,jpeg/021/943/926/1280x720.c.jpg.v1645404660)
“Ode to Black Skin.”
by Ashanti Anderson:(2019)
You are dark as religion. Remember God
could not have named a modicum of light without you.
You are plum, black currant, passion
fruit in another woman’s garden. You are Black
as and as if by magic. Black not as sin, but a cave’s jaw
clamped shut by forgiveness. Color of closed wombs and bellies
of ships, you, dark as not the tree trunk but its every cleft.
I chart each crescent moon rising above fingernail
and rub together my thighs for want of you. I try
to find you where the pages of books meet. You hang
where men or piano keys segregate. When I miss you,
I remember the hickey the sun left on the back of my neck.
If I forget, I smoke blunts down to my fingertips
and beg you to come on my lips. This is how I pray for you
when I’m not pessimistic. I bow to your darkness like I kneel
beside a chi ld’s bed, confessing as gospel, there’s no monster here.
by Ashanti Anderson:(2019)
You are dark as religion. Remember God
could not have named a modicum of light without you.
You are plum, black currant, passion
fruit in another woman’s garden. You are Black
as and as if by magic. Black not as sin, but a cave’s jaw
clamped shut by forgiveness. Color of closed wombs and bellies
of ships, you, dark as not the tree trunk but its every cleft.
I chart each crescent moon rising above fingernail
and rub together my thighs for want of you. I try
to find you where the pages of books meet. You hang
where men or piano keys segregate. When I miss you,
I remember the hickey the sun left on the back of my neck.
If I forget, I smoke blunts down to my fingertips
and beg you to come on my lips. This is how I pray for you
when I’m not pessimistic. I bow to your darkness like I kneel
beside a chi ld’s bed, confessing as gospel, there’s no monster here.
Reply
I would love to breed Zaawaadi with my hard white cock and put a mixed race baby deep inside her magnificent black pussy. I’d love to creampie her multiple times a day.
Reply
