'Didn’t expect to see this.' Heavy-lidded eyes catch yours through the crack of the door as she kneels on the couch, fingers already slick. No panties, just damp thighs and that knowing smirk like she wants you watching. First stroke is slow—teasing—but then her grip tightens around your shaft while her free hand cups her own pussy, rubbing circles like she’s been waiting for someone to walk in. 'You’re not supposed to be here,' she whispers, but doesn’t stop when you step closer. Legs spread wider on those floral pillows as you push inside—her nails digging into your back when it hits deep.