Cruising through the rich outskirts, my radar is on high alert for fancy pussies. Then I see her: blond hair, fancy bra, big fake tits, dripping with jewelry, and that bored housewife energy. A permanent smirk, acting like she’s too good for the world. Language barrier? Not a problem when you’re loaded from winning naked poker and packing technology that can translate anything. We park somewhere private so I can show her what a real French baguette looks like. She’s about to find out if that pussy is ready for Big Mike’s grande croissant.

Damn —a petite French brunette, all delicate and classy, driving around in a Porsche like she owned the world. She had a boyfriend too, but who gives a shit when I’ve got my monster cock ready to tear her apart? She acted all prim and proper at first, but I could tell that tight little body was aching for some real action. A few smooth words, a flash of what’s packing below, and bam—her panties were practically wet before I even got her to the back seat. French girls are supposed to be classy? Well, this one was about to become my personal cum bucket!

I'm not done with this trophy wife yet! She let me go all in… This high-society lady was for some real attention. It's clear her hubby's bedroom game was as weak as day-old coffee, leaving her tight pussy practically untouched (read virgin). Despite the bruises and soreness, she's loving it. And who knows? She might just be up for round two soon, even if it leaves her walking funny for days.

Cruising the city outskirts, I spot a desperate duo—an old car, a scruffy dude, and a redhead in a skirt. Oh, and she’s pregnant. Like, real pregnant. This half-hobo dude looks ready to sell his own soul, so I make an offer. “Need a ride? Sure, but the lady’s coming in my fuckwagon.” The guy barely hesitates—clearly, he knows who’s packing the real deal here.

Turns out, she’s his daughter. A little family roadside bonding, huh? I get her to show off those ripe preggo tits for a photo session. Damn, those milkers are something else. She’s around eight months, belly huge, and I can’t help but joke about poking the little guy’s eye with my cock. The guy? He’s just sitting in the back, trying not to cry while I gear up to show her what Big Mike is all about.