...tan line from her stockings cutting into pale thighs where they’re already slick. Red lace rips under her weight as she grinds down hard, hair falling in sweaty strands over his shoulder. No lube needed—just wet enough to hear every sloppy slide. He flips her onto her back and pins those thick legs open while she gasps for air between ‘faster’ and ‘oh fuck.’ The couch cushions are soaked by the time he pulls out just long enough to shoot right back in...
