She was supposed to be giving a massage. But the second his fingers brushed against her thigh, she whimpered and pulled him onto that blue couch like she’d been starving for cock. Purple lace soaked through fast—thighs quivering every time he bottomed out. Her feet kicked up behind him, nails digging into his back like claws, while she gasped through gritted teeth: 'Harder… don’t stop…' The way she gripped his waist when he flipped her over? Like this wasn’t just sex—this was survival. And by the end? Cum dripping down her ass crack while she licked it off his shaft with those hungry lips.
