Richard Mann Takes Alyx Star in a Hard BBC Deal

BLACKED – Richard Mann – Alyx Star – Simple Contract doesn’t waste time with small talk. Alyx Star walks into a meeting expecting paperwork and a handshake—what she gets instead is Richard Mann, a contract that’s anything but standard, and a lesson in how quickly business can turn personal. The tension’s thick from the first glance, the kind that makes it clear this negotiation won’t stay professional for long.

She’s got the look of someone who knows exactly what she’s doing: confident, in control, the kind of woman who’d usually call the shots. But Richard’s got other plans. The second he leans in, the dynamic shifts. That first kiss isn’t just a test—it’s a claim. And when his hands find her waist, pulling her onto his lap, it’s game over. The desk becomes a stage, the contract forgotten as clothes start coming off. Alyx might’ve come for a signature, but she’s staying for the ride.

What follows is a masterclass in contrast—her tight, toned body against his powerful frame, her moans cutting through the quiet hum of the office. Richard doesn’t rush. He takes his time, testing her limits with deep, measured strokes, his hands gripping her hips like he’s memorizing the shape of her. The blowjob’s a slow tease at first, her lips wrapped tight around him, but it doesn’t stay gentle. Soon she’s gagging, eyes watering, taking him to the back of her throat like it’s part of the fine print. And when he finally flips her over, bending her across that desk, you can almost hear the wood groan under the force.

BLACKED knows how to shoot this kind of scene—every angle highlights the raw physicality of it. The way her ass ripples when he slams into her from behind, the slick sound of skin on skin, the sheer size difference that makes every position look even more intense. Missionary turns into a power struggle, her legs locked around him as she tries to match his rhythm. Reverse cowgirl? That’s where she really loses control, her back arched, his hands all over her as she bounces on him like she’s trying to break the damn thing off. And when he finally cums, it’s not just on her face—it’s a statement.

By the time they’re done, the only thing signed is the wall behind her. The contract’s still sitting there, untouched, because some deals don’t need ink—just a whole lot of sweat, a few bruises, and the kind of memory that’ll have her crossing her legs every time she walks past that office again. Richard Mann doesn’t just close the deal. He owns it.