Little Jill: A to M

Jill's fourteen but looks much younger. Today's she's making an ass to mouth how to video— for all the little girls out there eager to learn.

Jill made eye contact with the camera as she started to strip, her movements practiced and devoid of any childhood innocence. She didn’t just undress she flirted with the camera.

"Hi, I'm Jill and today we're going to show you how to do A to M, or Ass to Mouth!"

She pulled her little t-shirt over her head with a smirk, tossing it toward the the camera. Then hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties, sliding them down with a slow, delibera confidence, revealing her hairless, little girl cunt.

"Do you like my little pussy?" She asked the camera, as she spread her plump little labia with her small, soft fingers. It was clear from the way it opened to reveal her pink insides that she had been fucked more times than she could count.

"Daddy, likes this hole but it's not the one that's hungry," Jill whispered, her voice dropping an octave as she turned around and looked back over her shoulder, her eyes wide and hungry. She got down on her hands and knees, then pressed her face to the floor, then reached back and grabbed her own cheeks, pulling them apart to show the camera the gaping, puffy opening of her anus.

"This is the hole that's hungry!" Jill exclaimed, twiisting to look back at the camera —her voice a mix of childhood cadence and a practiced, sluttiness. "First we need to make sure it's warmed up, right Daddy?"

She sucked on her fingers, forcing them deep enough to make her gag, her eyes locked onto the lens. Then withdrew them with a wet pop—at strand of saliva bridging her lip and her fingertip.

"Now girls, I've been doing this since I was little, so my bum hole is already for whatever Daddy wants to put in it," she giggled, as she looked back at the camera. "But if its your first time, start with one finger and you have to use plenty of lube!"

She pushed her two middle fingers deep into her gaping anus with a wet, squelching sound, her eyes never leaving the lens. "Mmm. That feels so yummy," she sighed, her voice dropping into a breathy, practiced husk. "But the best part is properly working your hole open for your daddy."

She started to eagerly fuck her fingers, her eyes wide and hungry. "Now, for the best part!" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of childhood cadence and a practiced, sluttiness. The wet squelching sound of her fingers in her gaping anus filled the room.

"Shall I see if I can fit hand?" she whispered, her voice a low, practiced hum. She slide a third finger into the stretched, yielding heat of her anus with a wet, rhythmic shlick. Her breath hitched, a genuine spark of pleasure lighting up her eyes as she felt her internal muscles struggle and fail to grip the intrusion.

"Look, Daddy," she murmured, glancing back at the man standing behind the tripod. "It's already so open. I can feel the air inside me."

She shifted her weight, the movement causing her tiny budding little girl tits to press flat against the cool floor, while her hips remained tilted high. With a slow, deliberate motion, she pushed a fourth finger into the gaping heat, the skin of her anus stretching taut and translucent. The sound was visceral—a thick, wet squelch as she fucked her fingers knuckle deep.

"Ooooh, that feels so good," she moaned, her voice dropping into a husky, practiced register that belied her years. She gave a sharp, rhythmic thrust against her own hand, the sound of wet skin slapping against skin.

"I'm lucky and my Daddy started training me early," Jill whispered, her voice trembling with a simulated fragility that she knew the camera loved. She wedged her thumb in, her hand now almost buried entirely within her own heat. The sound was a thick, rhythmic shlick-shlick-shlick.

"But some daddy's need encouragement," Jill whispered, her voice a low, practiced hum. "They need to see exactly what they're missing. You need to show your daddy's that you're a good little girl and you're ready for him."

She shifted, rolling onto her back with a fluid, feline grace, spreading her legs wide to give the camera a full, unobstructed view of her glistening, open arsehole and pink little cunt. "I love being naked around my daddy," she giggled, her small chest heaving with a simulated breathlessness. "I don't even like clothes. Why would I want to hide this little hole when it's so hungry for him?" She reached down, using a single finger to peel back the edge of her puckered, gaping anus, giving the camera a glimpse of the raw, pink interior.

"Be naked around your daddy's whenever you can," Jill whispered, her voice a practiced blend of childhood sweetness and seasoned hunger. She arched her back, her small frame trembling as she looked directly into the lens. "Show them your little hole. Maybe share a bath together, and let them see exactly how open you are."

She giggled, a sound that was far too knowing for her age, as she reached down to massage the rim of her gaping anus. "The water makes everything so slippery," she murmured, imagining the warmth of a tub. "It makes it so much easier for them to slide right in."

"If you're really brave you play with the soap," she whispered, her voice a conspiratorial hum that seemed to vibrate against the lens. "Rub it right around the rim of your hole until it's all bubbly and white, then you just wait. You wait for them to see it. Watch their willies begin to grow because they can't help it when you're this open and this ready." She shifted her hips, the gaping heat of her anus glistening under the lights, a permanent invitation that no longer knew how to close.

"I'm ready now daddy," Jill whispered, her voice a practiced, sultry hum. She didn't just lie there; she flipped back onto all four, her small body arching like a bow, presenting the gaping, wet heat of her anus directly to the lens. "Remember girls, the secret is to be naked whenever you can. When you're naked around them, they can see exactly how much you want it. They can see the way your little hole just... waits."

A naked man in a clown mask steps into shot—his hand lubing up his cock with a thick, wet sound. He doesn't speak; he doesn't have to. The camera is the only witness that matters. He squats over her, the head of his member brushing against the gaping rim of her anus. The camera angle gives a perfect view of his bulbous cock head pressing into the raw, pink center of her.

Her sphincter didn't just yield; it welcomed him with a wet, sucking sound. As he pushed forward, the skin of her anus stretched to its limit, turning a pale, translucent shade of pink before he slid home with a visceral, wet sucking nouse . Jill let out a sharp, jagged gasp, her small hands clutching the floorboards as her body absorbed the intrusion.

"Oh yes, fuck my little hole," Jill gasped, her voice muffled against the floorboards. The man in the mask didn't waste time; he began a slow, rhythmic drive, the sound of his balls slapping against her dripping little slit filled th room like a wet heartbeat. With every thrust, her body jolted forward, her small chest pressing flat against the wood.

He played with the depth, pulling back until the head of his cock almost slipped from the gaping rim of her anus, teasing the raw, pink interior. Then, with a guttural grunt, he drove back in, sliding balls-deep with a thick, visceral shlick. The force of it made her eyes roll back, her small frame trembling as she drooled onto the floorboards.

Her fingers rubbed frantically, a desperate rhythm against the heat of her tiny clit, the friction a sharp contrast to the heavy, rhythmic invasion behind her. He took his time, pulling back until he slippped out, the rim of her anus gaping wide, a raw, pink invitation that didn't even try to close.

"Noooo daddy. Put it back in me," she gasped, her voice a ragged husk.

Suddenly, the man in the mask didn't just slide back in; he flipped her over with a rough, practiced motion. The transition was seamless, a blur of pale skin and wet sounds. He pinned her small ankles up by her head, his weight crushing her into the floorboards. The camera shifted, zooming in on the raw, glistening gap between her legs where his member had just been, the opening still pulsing, open and vacant. Her little pink cunt leaked juice, onto her ruined bum hole.

She pushed her two middle fingers deep into her pussy and hooked them upwards to find her G-spot, her voice a ragged, desperate hum. "Look at how it leaks for you, Daddy. It’s so wet, it’s practically screaming."

Daddy pushed his weight forward, the mask hiding his face but his intent written in the brutal, rhythmic precision of his hips. He didn't just enter her; he reclaimed her, driving his cock back into that ruined, gaping heat with a sound like a wet boot stepping into deep mud. He hammered into her arse with a savage, focused energy, each thrust sending a shockwave through her small frame that made her vision blur.

He wasn't gentle; he drove deep, bottoming out against her internal walls, the impact causing her to let out a series of high, rhythmic keening sounds. The wet, slapping noise of his pelvis colliding with her cunt echoed through the room, a visceral percussion that drowned out everything.

Jill's two holes were on fire, as he hammered into her, the friction against her clit—driven by the brutal rhythm of his pelvis slapping her—reached a fever pitch. Suddenly, the tension snapped. Her entire body locked into a rigid, vibrating arc, and a jagged, guttural scream ripped from her throat as a tidal wave of pleasure crashed through her. Her internal muscles spasmed in frantic, desperate pulses, clamping down on his cock in a series of rhythmic, involuntary contractions that squeezed him with a visceral intensity.

"Daaaaady!" The scream wasn't a sound; it was an eruption. Her small frame didn't just shudder; it convulsed, every muscle in her body locking into a rigid, vibrating arc that arched her spine until she was nearly floating off the floorboards. The pleasure was a violent, electrical current, surging from the depth of her ruined anus and exploding outward in a series of rhythmic, shocks that left her gasping for air she couldn't find.

Daddy didn't even slow down when she peaked; he only increased the pace, his hips becoming a blur of focused, rhythmic violence. The sound was no longer just a shlick; it was a wet, slapping thunder that echoed off the bare walls of the room. He reached down, his large hand gripping her small throat—choking her, anchoring her, pinning her against the wood as he drove himself home.

"Look at the camera, Jill," he grunted, the voice muffled and distorted by the plastic of the mask. "Show them how much you want it."

Her face was turning a bruised shade of purple under the pressure of his grip, her eyes bulging as she stared directly into the lens. The camera didn't just record her; it consumed her, capturing the frantic, wide-eyed desperation of a girl who had been molded into a living toy. She didn't fight the hand at her throat; she leaned into it, her small body craving the restriction, the feeling of being completely owned.

Daddy suddenly pulled back, the wet pop of his exit leaving her gaping hole pulsing in the open air. But the reprieve was a lie. Before she could even draw a full breath, he gripped her hair and hauled her upward, flipping her like a doll until she was kneeling, her small chest heaving, face-to-face with his throbbing cock. He didn’t use words; he simply guided the head of his glistening, salt-slicked member to the parting of her lips.

Jill didn’t hesitate. She opened wide, her mouth a wet, eager cavern that welcomed the intrusion with a practiced hunger. The first slide in was a thick, visceral intrusion that hit the back of her throat with a blunt force, triggering a reflexive gag that she leaned into, her eyes rolling back in a mixture of panic and pleasure. He didn't stop at the soft palate; he drove deeper, his hips snapping forward to bury himself in her small throat, the sound a muffled, wet *gluck* as he claimed her airway.

Her hands came up to grip his thighs, her small fingers digging into the muscle as she anchored herself for the onslaught. He didn't just slide into her; he fucked her face had. Gripping the back of her head with a possessive, heavy hand, he began to drive his length into her mouth with a rhythmic, punishing force. Each thrust was an invasion that slammed into the back of her throat, forcing a series of muffled, rhythmic *gluck-gluck-gluck*.

Her slender neck visibly bulged with every rhythmic surge, the skin stretching taut as he claimed the narrow passage. Her throat was a warm, wet tube, a living conduit of velvety heat that constricted around him in a series of instinctive, pulsing ripples. There was no room for air, only the thick, sliding presence of him, turning her breath into a series of desperate, muffled sucking whimpers.

Drool dripped from the corners of her mouth, a silver thread that connected her chin to the salt-slicked skin of his shaft. Tears streamed from her eyes—not from pain, but from the sheer, suffocating intensity of the gag reflex that had become her favorite sensation. Her hands cupped his buttocks, her small fingers kneading the muscle to pull him deeper, wanting to feel every inch of him insider her.

Suddenly, the rhythm shifted from a steady pound to a frantic, desperate hammering. He let out a guttural, animalistic groan that vibrated through her skull, and his grip on the back of her head tightened with a brutal, possessive force. He didn't just hold her; he slammed her face against his crotch, pinning her mouth and nose flush against the pulsing heat of his pelvis.

The explosion was visceral. As he came, deep in her throat, a hot jet of semen shot out of her nose with the force of a pressurized hose. The sudden, violent surge of cum nearly drowning her, Jill didn't recoil; she swallowed in rhythmic, desperate gulps, her throat working like a pump to drain him dry.

When he finally pulled away, she gasped for air, her chest heaving, a mixture of saliva and thick, pearlescent seed dripping from her chin. She didn't move. She stayed there, kneeling on the cold wood, feeling the cooling slickness of him on her skin and the lingering, throbbing void in her backside.

The man in the mask didn't offer a hand or a word of praise. He simply stepped back, the plastic of the mask clicking as he tilted his head, surveying his work. He casually slapped his softening cock against her face, leaving a streak of pearlescent slime across her cheek.

Jill's breathing, gradually returned to a ragged cadence. She didn't move from her position, her small body still vibrating from the residual aftershocks of the climax. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and glazed, her expression of pure bliss. She gently sucked his cock clean and she scooped up the seed that had dripped onto her chest and the floor, licking it up as if it were the most precious candy she had ever tasted.

"Well girls," Jill whispered, her voice a fragile, breathy rasp as she turned her face back toward the camera, her cheek still streaked with the pearlescent evidence of his release. "That's how you do A to M. That's how you make sure your daddy knows you're the best little girl in the world." She gave a small, knowing wink, her expression a blend of childhood innocence and seasoned expertise.

"Now, remember, I didn't just wake up like this," she continued, her small hand reaching down to trace the gaping rim of her anus, which pulsed rhythmically in the open air. "I'm an expert. I've put in the work. It takes a lot of training and a lot of patience to get this good, to make your hole stay open and deepthroat without even blinking." She let out a little giggle, a sound that sat strangely between a child's laugh and a siren's call, as she looked back at the camera with eyes that had seen too much and wanted more.

"So go find your daddy," she whispered, her voice a grainy, velvet rasp, "and get to work."