Hindi Housewife’s Forbidden Riding on the Rooftop Floor

Bent over a rolled-up mat, red sari hiked up—thick thighs gripping his hips while he slams into her from behind. Ass jiggling, fingers digging into flesh like she’s been waiting years for this. Flips onto her back mid-grind, legs wrapped tight around his waist as he buries himself deeper than before. Didn’t notice how loud their breathing got until the creaking floorboards gave them away. Pretends not to care when you peek through the rafters—just keeps riding harder with that hungry look in her eyes. No sheets between them; just sweat and desperate sounds of forbidden pleasure slipping past her lips every time he bottoms out.