Muffled moans through the door. Heard them first, then saw her: heavy-lidded eyes locked on nothing, lips parted like she’s waiting for something. Blue tank top hiked up past the belly roll, fingers digging into his shoulders as he pins her down. The bed creaks under him pounding into that hairy pussy from behind—no lube needed when it’s this wet already. She arches back with a gasp every time he bottoms out, nails scraping sheets like she’s marking territory. Then—flip—she rolls him over mid-thrust and straddles him slow, hands gripping his chest like she owns this room (and maybe she does).