Tan lines from last summer still visible where her dress rode up—now just a scrap of lace clinging to her thighs. The swing creaks as he slams into her from behind, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips. She arches back with every thrust, tits bouncing against his chest until she collapses forward onto the chains, cum dripping down her inner thighs like forbidden evidence. No lube needed here—just raw heat and that wet slap-slap-slap echoing through the quiet street. When he pulls out for round two, she turns around on all fours right there on the wooden seat, cheeks spread wide enough to see everything.
