I hate when I have this look. Making the promise that I can deep throat anything and then realising you’ve got me beat.
It had been a fairly even struggle between the man from Havanna and the woman from Boca Chica. Starting with her, they had traded orgasms until the score was 3:3.
Raul continued to be surprised that this rich spoiled capitalist from the Dominican Republic could keep up with a hardened Cuban champion, but she did!
Raul’s third climax had been so much more intense than his usual. What had she done to cause this? He was also stunned that she could keep going as hard as this. He was thrown on the defensive.
She grabbed him by the hair and kept at him, milking his prick with her wonderfully aching pussy.
Timed with the staccato strokes, she grunted: “This … is … how … I … end … you.”
He knew it was true.
She did him this way until he was perfectly marinated and ready to serve. She could tell when it was the perfect time to end him. A little harder pull - and he was shooting his last load. She drew his last unwilling orgasm from his core. As he was cumming, she pulled his head to hers and kissed him, taking everything that he could possibly give.
He was ended.
The official score was 4:3, but when Raul remembers that match, there was only that memory of her, completely conquering and taking him.



