Mary Jane Watson

The black alien looked at the figure more attentively. The woman was running, jogging, panting, seemingly out of breath. She sat down on the ground, tired.

The woman was stunning; even the alien knew better than that. Her flaming red hair swayed on her white, flawless skin, and when she sat down, she jiggled her large luscious breasts slightly. Her waist was slim, her legs were slender. Her pants skowed off her bust. She was undeniably a beauty.

So, what next?