She didn’t expect to see this. Bent over the armrest of that same old couch where they’ve had drinks before, thick thighs spread wide for a younger guy’s cock. Green lace barely holding on as he slams deep from behind—her tits bouncing like they’re begging for attention. Then she turns around, straddles his lap right there in front of you (she knows someone’s watching), and grinds down so hard the cushions are soaked before either of them even finish. The way her hips roll when he flips her onto her back—legs wrapped around his waist like she’s trying to pull him inside—and those damn high heels still on while he buries himself deeper than ever.
