Peeking through the half-open door—blonde hair fanned out over white sheets, dress bunched up around her waist. He didn’t knock first; she doesn’t care. Stockings still half-on as he flips her onto her back, tits jiggling free from some ratted blouse that never got fully buttoned anyway. Ass lifts off the couch when he slams into her raw—no foreplay left, just greedy fucking with his hands tangled in her hair. Her thighs shake every time he bottoms out deeper than before. The way she bites his shoulder when it’s about to end? Proof this wasn’t their first secret.
