She knew someone was peeking through that half-open door—pretended not to notice as she wiggled those painted toes on the coffee table. Then she made the first move: grabbed his wrist, pulled him down hard, and pinned him beneath her. Hair pulled back into a messy bun? No time for that. Her tits bouncing against his chest while she straddles him raw on the couch—no lube needed when her pussy is already dripping from teasing. He tries to hold back but loses it fast—the second he bottoms out inside her, she locks eyes and starts riding like a woman possessed. Back arches, nails digging into his shoulders as she grinds down harder each time.
