Chinese CD Lua Rough Fuck

Simone had booked the private modeling session three days earlier through a discreet agency that specialized in crossdressing talent for fashion and art shoots. At twenty-eight, with the lean, hard body of a former track athlete who still ran five miles every morning and lifted weights three times a week, she knew exactly what she wanted when she opened the door of her downtown apartment to the twenty-four-year-old Chinese crossdresser named Lua.

Lua stepped inside on four-inch heels, the tight silk dress clinging to every curve of a body that had been carefully shaped and presented. The fabric was deep red, cut low enough to show the soft swell of padded cleavage and short enough that the hem rode high on smooth thighs. Heavy makeup transformed Lua’s face—smoky eyes lined in black, full lips painted a glossy crimson, cheekbones dusted with highlighter. Black hair fell in a sleek curtain past the shoulders. The moment their eyes met, the attraction was open and mutual, the kind of charged recognition that needed no polite small talk.

“You look perfect,” Simone said, voice low as she closed the door. She wore a simple black tank top that showed the defined muscles of her arms and shoulders, dark jeans that sat low on her hips. “Camera’s set up by the window. Natural light’s good right now.”

Lua’s smile was slow and knowing. “Thank you, Simone. I dress special for you. You like?” The accent was soft, the English broken just enough to make every word sound deliberate and intimate. Those dark eyes dragged down Simone’s athletic frame without shame, lingering on the flat stomach and the strong thighs. Flirting had started the second Lua walked in—teasing glances over one shoulder while hanging up a small overnight bag, a lingering touch when accepting the glass of water Simone offered, the way Lua’s fingers brushed Simone’s wrist and stayed a beat too long.

They moved into the open living space. Large windows looked out over the city skyline, afternoon light spilling across polished floors. Simone adjusted the lighting stands and the digital camera on its tripod, but her attention kept snagging on Lua. The silk whispered with every step. When Lua turned to check a reflection in the mirror near the couch, the dress rode up just enough to flash the lower curve of an ass that looked firm and inviting. Simone felt heat settle low in her belly, a familiar pull she didn’t bother hiding.

“First poses by the window,” Simone directed. “Hand on the glass, look back at me.”

Lua obeyed, but the obedience came laced with provocation. One hand pressed to the cool glass, body angled so the silk stretched tight across hips and chest. Those painted lips parted slightly. “Like this? You see everything I have.” A deliberate glance over the shoulder, heavy-lidded and hungry. “I think you want more than pictures, yes?”

Simone’s pulse kicked harder. She clicked a few frames, the camera shutter loud in the quiet apartment, but her free hand flexed at her side. “Keep going. Arch your back more.”

Lua arched, then slowly bent forward at the waist as if adjusting the fall of the dress. The motion was pure theater—ass pushed out, the thin silk cupping every contour, the hem sliding high enough to reveal the bottom edge of black lace panties. Lua shifted weight from one heel to the other, rubbing thighs together with a soft sound of silk on skin, then backed up half a step until that rounded ass brushed lightly against Simone’s hip. The contact was intentional, a slow drag that let Simone feel the heat of Lua’s body through the fabric.

“Sorry,” Lua whispered, not sounding sorry at all. The voice dropped into something filthy and inviting. “I feel how strong you are. Your legs, your arms… I dream about you hold me down. Fuck me hard. You like Chinese girl who dress pretty and take it rough, yes?”

Simone’s breath left her in a rough exhale. The camera hung forgotten. She could smell Lua’s perfume—something sweet and spicy—and underneath it the clean scent of skin warmed by nerves and want. Every teasing glance since the door opened had stacked higher, and now Lua was grinding back again, deliberate little circles of that silk-covered ass against Simone’s front. Interior heat flared sharp and immediate. Simone had hired for a clean modeling session, professional distance, but the crossdresser’s open eagerness shredded that pretense in seconds.

Lua straightened just enough to look back, lipstick-smeared mouth curved in a wicked smile. “I wear nothing under dress if you say. Or leave panties so you rip them. I want your fingers in me. Your mouth. Your strap if you have one. Make me scream, Simone. I beg nice for you.”

That did it. Simone’s control snapped clean. She closed the distance in two strides, fist knotting tight in the sleek black hair at the back of Lua’s head. The pull was firm, tipping Lua’s face up and back so their eyes locked. Simone’s other hand gripped a silk-clad hip hard enough to leave marks later. Her voice came out low and gravel-rough, every word precise.

“You little cocktease. You’ve been rubbing that ass on me since you walked through my door, whispering filthy shit in that pretty broken English. I’m done playing photographer. I’m going to fuck you so hard you forget how to stand. First I’m going to bend you over that couch and eat that tight hole until you’re dripping and shaking. Then I’m going to stretch you open on my fingers—three, maybe four—until you’re sobbing for more. After that I strap up and bury every inch in you. I don’t do gentle. I fuck like I mean it. Hard. Deep. You’re going to take it until your makeup runs and your voice is gone. Understood?”

Lua’s moan was immediate and shameless, a high needy sound that vibrated against Simone’s grip. Those painted lids fluttered. The body in Simone’s hands melted and pressed closer, grinding back deliberately now, no more pretense of accidental contact. “Yes—yes, Simone. Please. Fuck me rough. I want it. Pull hair harder. Use me. I come here for this. Make Chinese girl your whore. Beg for it—please, fuck me hard, split me open, I need your cock, your hands, everything rough—”

Simone’s grip tightened in the hair, angling Lua’s head further so the throat arched. She could see the rapid flutter of pulse under the makeup, the way those glossy lips stayed parted for more dirty invitations. The silk dress was already disheveled from the grinding; one strap had slipped down a smooth shoulder. Simone’s free hand slid around to cup between Lua’s legs from the front, feeling heat and damp lace through the thin fabric. Lua pushed into the touch with a broken whimper, thighs parting wider on the heels.

“Feel how wet already,” Lua gasped, accent thickening with lust. “All for you. Since I see your strong body I think only about you pin me, slap my ass red, fuck until I cannot walk. Do it. Start now. Please—”

Simone’s own arousal sat heavy between her legs, clit throbbing against the seam of her jeans. She kept the fist in Lua’s hair and walked them both toward the wide leather couch that faced the windows, never releasing the hold. Lua stumbled willingly in the heels, silk whispering, breath coming in short eager pants. Simone shoved Lua face-down over the arm of the couch, the position forcing that round ass high and presented. The dress rode up completely now. Black lace framed smooth cheeks. Simone raked nails lightly down the backs of Lua’s thighs and watched the shiver roll through.

“Stay exactly like that,” Simone ordered. She stepped back only long enough to peel her own tank top off, baring the tight stomach and the small, firm breasts with their tight nipples. The jeans stayed on for now; the power of still being dressed while Lua was already half-exposed felt right. She returned, one knee braced on the couch cushion, hand returning to the hair to keep Lua’s face pressed to the leather. “You wanted rough. You’re getting it. I’m going to ruin this pretty little outfit and then I’m going to ruin you.”

Lua’s answer was a long, shuddering moan of pure agreement, hips pushing back seeking any friction. “Ruin me. Please ruin me. Fuck Chinese CD hard—use my hole, fill me, own me—”

Simone’s palm cracked lightly across one cheek, just enough sting to make Lua cry out in pleasure, then soothed the spot with a firm squeeze. The air in the apartment felt thicker, charged with the scent of arousal and perfume. Outside the windows the city continued its indifferent afternoon, but inside every line of tension Simone had felt since the door opened now focused into the next inevitable move—the slow peel of lace, the first press of tongue, the stretch of fingers that would open Lua for the hard fucking both of them already craved.

She leaned down, mouth close to Lua’s ear, voice a dark promise. “This is only the start. By the time I’m done with you, you won’t remember how to say anything except ‘harder’ and ‘please.’”

Lua trembled under her, eager and open and completely willing, the silk dress a wreck of wrinkles and pulled fabric, makeup already threatening to smear from the heat of skin and want. Simone’s hand slid between those parted thighs again, finding the soaked lace, and the real work of the afternoon began in earnest—slow, deliberate, and nowhere near finished.

Simone hauled Tamara up from the couch by the hair and the waist of the ruined silk dress, marching her straight into the bedroom without a word. The crossdresser stumbled on the heels but never resisted, only moaned when Simone spun her and shoved her hard face-down onto the wide bed. Tamara’s padded chest hit the mattress with a soft bounce; the red dress rode high on its own. Simone yanked the hem the rest of the way up over those smooth hips, then hooked two fingers in the sodden black lace and jerked the panties aside, baring the tight pink hole and the smooth cleft between Tamara’s thighs.

“Ass up. Higher.” Simone’s palm cracked across one cheek, then the other, leaving instant pink prints. Tamara scrambled to obey, knees spreading, back arched, face pressed into the sheets. Simone spat directly onto the exposed hole, then drove two fingers in without warning—thick, athletic fingers that stretched the ring hard. Tamara cried out, a broken, hungry sound, hips shoving back for more.

“Yes—fuck, stretch me—”

Simone scissored those fingers inside the heat, pumping deep and rough, curling and twisting until the ring fluttered and clenched. She added a third finger on the next thrust, watching the pretty Chinese crossdresser’s hole swallow them. Wet sounds filled the room. Simone leaned in, yanked the dress higher still, and replaced her fingers with her mouth. She ate Tamara’s ass like she was starving—tongue spearing deep, lips sealing and sucking, teeth grazing the rim while her free hand kept the panties pulled wide. Tamara’s thighs shook. She sobbed into the mattress, Chinese-accented pleas tumbling out between gasps.

“Eat me—please eat dirty hole—Simone stronger—make Chinese girl drip—”

Simone pulled back only long enough to slap the wet ass again, then buried her face deeper, fucking the hole with her tongue in hard, relentless strokes while two fingers slid lower and found the slick heat of Tamara’s front. She worked both ends at once until Tamara was trembling and babbling. Only then did Simone stand, wipe her mouth with the back of her hand, and strip off her jeans. The harness was already waiting in the nightstand; she stepped into it fast, buckled the thick silicone cock into place—heavy, veined, longer than average and girthy enough to force a real stretch. She slicked it with a quick stroke of spit and lube, then climbed back onto the bed.

One hard shove and the head punched into Tamara’s spit-slick ass. Simone didn’t ease in. She slammed forward in one brutal thrust that buried every inch and forced a raw scream from the crossdresser. Tamara’s fists knotted in the sheets. Simone gripped both hips, hauled them higher, and started pounding—deep, punishing strokes that slammed her pelvis against the rounded cheeks and made the whole bed frame creak. The thick dildo dragged out almost all the way each time before slamming home again, stretching the ring wide and shiny.

“Take it. Every fucking inch.” Simone’s voice was low and rough, breath already coming harder from the force she was using. She reached forward, twisted a fist in Tamara’s black hair, and yanked the head back so the arched throat was exposed. “You wanted rough. You’re getting ruined.”

Tamara pushed back to meet every thrust, makeup smearing on the sheets, crimson lipstick leaving messy prints. “Harder—split Chinese whore open—fuck me like animal—” The accent thickened with each impact. Simone obliged, pistoning faster, the wet slap of skin on skin loud and filthy. She reached under, found the hard little clit between Tamara’s legs, and rubbed it in rough circles timed to the deep strokes. Tamara’s whole body jerked; a high, keening moan spilled out.

When the rhythm threatened to tip them both too soon, Simone pulled out with a wet pop, flipped onto her back in one strong motion, and dragged Tamara up to straddle her in reverse. The thick cock stood upright. Tamara’s hands braced on Simone’s strong thighs as she lowered herself, sinking down in one long, trembling slide until she was fully impaled again. Simone’s hands clamped on the hips and forced the bounce—hard, upward snaps of her own hips meeting every downward slam. The reverse-cowgirl angle let her watch the stretched hole swallow the shaft over and over. She raised one hand and cracked it across Tamara’s bouncing ass, then the other cheek, leaving blooming red marks.

“That’s it, dirty Chinese slut. Ride it. Bounce on my cock like you were made for it.” Another sharp slap. “Look at you taking it so deep—pretty little crossdresser whore dripping all over me.”

Tamara’s head fell back, black hair sticking to sweaty shoulders. She worked her hips in frantic circles and hard drops, the silk dress bunched uselessly around her waist, padded tits jiggling with every impact. “Call me again—call me slut—use me—I come for strong woman cock—” Simone’s palm kept landing, rhythmic and stinging, while her other hand reached around to pinch and tug at the leaking clit. The dirty talk poured out of her without pause—Chinese slut, cockteasing whore, dress-up bitch who needed her hole wrecked—each phrase making Tamara clench tighter and ride harder.

Sweat slicked both of their bodies. Simone’s athletic core flexed with every upward thrust; Tamara’s thighs burned from the relentless bouncing. When the reverse angle started to make Tamara’s legs shake too much, Simone sat up, wrapped strong arms around the smaller body, and rolled them without pulling out. She pinned Tamara flat on her back, hooked both of the crossdresser’s legs high and wide, knees nearly to the ears, and locked them there with her own shoulders. The new position let her drop her full weight into every thrust. She hammered down in savage, sweaty strokes that buried the thick dildo to the hilt again and again, the harness grinding against her own swollen clit with perfect, punishing pressure.

Tamara’s painted nails raked down Simone’s back. “Yes—hold me—fuck deeper—I feel you everywhere—” Their faces were inches apart. Simone could smell the perfume mixed with sex and the salt of sweat. She kissed the smeared crimson mouth hard, biting the lower lip, then growled against it.

“Come on my cock. Both of us. Now.”

She drove in harder, faster, the bed slamming the wall. Tamara’s hole clenched in rapid flutters; a long, broken cry tore out of her as the orgasm hit—body locking, thighs quivering against Simone’s shoulders, wetness spilling around the thick shaft. The rhythmic squeezing dragged Simone over right after. Pleasure ripped up her spine; she slammed deep one last time and ground there, hips jerking as her own climax flooded through her, clit pulsing hard against the base of the harness. They stayed locked like that, panting, sweat dripping from Simone’s collarbones onto Tamara’s chest, the dildo still buried to the root.

Simone didn’t pull out. She rolled her hips in slow, deep circles that kept the oversensitive stretch going, watching fresh tears of pleasure streak the ruined makeup. Tamara’s legs stayed pinned high, body limp and open and still twitching. Simone leaned down, voice a low rasp against the ear.

“We’re not finished. That was just the first round. You’re staying on this cock until I decide you’ve had enough.”

Simone kept the thick cock buried deep inside Tamara’s stretched hole, rolling her hips in those slow, grinding circles that dragged the heavy shaft against every sensitive inch. Tamara’s legs stayed pinned high against Simone’s shoulders, the Chinese crossdresser’s body limp and twitching from the first climax, makeup streaked down her cheeks in black and crimson trails. Sweat glued the ruined red silk dress to her padded chest. Simone’s athletic core flexed with every deliberate movement, the harness base grinding perfect pressure against her own swollen clit.

“You feel that?” Simone growled against Tamara’s ear, voice rough from exertion. “Still full of me. Still taking it. I’m not done wrecking this pretty Chinese hole.” She pulled almost all the way out—watching the shiny ring cling and gape—then slammed back in to the hilt. Tamara’s cry cracked high and raw. The bed frame thudded the wall again as Simone set a fresh punishing rhythm, shorter strokes this time, deeper, the slap of her pelvis against Tamara’s reddened ass loud and wet.

Tamara’s painted nails dug fresh crescents into Simone’s shoulders. “Yes—fuck—Simone stronger—split me again—make Chinese CD take every inch—” The accent thickened with each impact. Simone hooked an arm under one of Tamara’s knees and shoved it higher, folding the smaller body nearly in half so she could drive straight down. The thick silicone stretched Tamara’s hole shiny and wide on every thrust. Simone’s free hand found the leaking clit between Tamara’s smooth thighs and rubbed it in rough, relentless circles timed to the pounding.

Heat built fast in Simone’s belly. Her strong thighs burned from the force she poured into every stroke. Tamara’s hole fluttered and clenched, sucking at the shaft. “Look at you,” Simone snarled, sweat dripping from her collarbone onto Tamara’s smeared lipstick. “Dress-up slut bouncing on my cock like you were built for it. Pretty little whore coming here in silk and heels just so I could ruin you. Say it.”

“I am—Chinese whore—your Chinese whore—fuck me harder—please—” Tamara sobbed the words between gasps, black hair stuck to her sweaty neck, body jerking under the onslaught. Simone obliged. She hammered faster, the harness grinding her clit into bright sparks of pleasure with every deep bury. Tamara’s second orgasm hit like a seizure—thighs locking hard around Simone’s torso, hole spasming in rapid flutters that milked the thick cock, a long broken wail tearing out of her throat as fresh wetness spilled around the base.

The rhythmic squeezing dragged Simone over the edge right with her. Pleasure ripped up her spine; she slammed deep one final time and ground there, hips jerking as her own climax flooded through her in hard pulses. Her clit throbbed violently against the harness while Tamara’s body kept fluttering and trembling underneath. They stayed locked like that for long seconds, both of them panting, sweat slick between their pressed chests, the dildo still buried to the root inside the spent, twitching hole.

Simone finally eased back. She pulled the thick shaft free with a wet pop that made Tamara whimper. The crossdresser’s hole stayed open and shiny for a moment before slowly fluttering closed. Simone unbuckled the harness with quick fingers and tossed it aside onto the sheets. Then she gripped Tamara’s hips and flipped the spent, trembling body onto her stomach in one strong motion. Tamara landed face-down with a soft moan, arms limp, the ruined silk dress still bunched around her waist, padded tits pressed into the mattress. Her ass was bright red from the earlier slaps, cheeks marked and hot.

Simone climbed over her, knees bracketing Tamara’s thighs. She lowered her own dripping pussy onto that reddened ass and began to grind—slow, filthy circles that smeared her wetness across the warm, marked skin. The friction was perfect, slick and deliberate. Simone’s clit dragged over the hot curve of one cheek, then the other, her athletic hips rolling with lazy, post-orgasm power. Tamara shivered under her, still catching her breath, but she pushed her ass up into the grind with a soft, satisfied sound.

“Feel how wet I am from fucking you,” Simone murmured, voice lower now, almost lazy. She leaned down, chest to Tamara’s back, and turned the crossdresser’s face sideways so she could claim those smeared crimson lips. The kiss was slow and deep, tongues sliding, both of them tasting salt and lipstick and the leftover heat of the rough fucking. Simone kept grinding the whole time—wet pussy sliding over the marked ass in long, deliberate strokes, coating the pink handprints with fresh slick. Tamara kissed back eagerly, lazy and open-mouthed, one hand reaching back to grip Simone’s strong thigh.

They stayed like that for long minutes, catching their breath between kisses, bodies still trembling with aftershocks. Simone’s grind never stopped; she rolled her hips in slow figure-eights, clit throbbing each time it dragged across the hottest, reddest spots on Tamara’s cheeks. Sweat cooled on their skin in the afternoon light spilling through the bedroom windows. The sheets were a wreck—stained with lube and cum and smeared makeup, the scent of sex thick in the air. Tamara’s heels still dangled from her feet; one had slipped half-off. Simone reached down once and squeezed a marked cheek hard while she ground, drawing another soft moan into the kiss.

Eventually the grinding slowed. Simone’s strong arms wrapped around Tamara’s smaller frame and she let her full weight settle, collapsing them both into a sweaty, cum-stained tangle on the ruined bed. Their legs tangled. Simone’s wet pussy stayed pressed to Tamara’s ass even as they went still. Kisses turned softer, slower, mouths barely moving against each other while their heartbeats settled. Tamara’s black hair stuck to both their faces. The silk dress was nothing but twisted fabric between them. Simone’s athletic body—still hard from the morning run, still marked by Tamara’s nails—draped protectively over the spent crossdresser.

Tamara turned her head just enough to speak against Simone’s lips, voice hoarse and thick with the accent, a lazy satisfied smile curling the ruined lipstick.

“You fuck Chinese girl so good… next time you bring bigger cock and leave more marks, yes?”