Tan lines on her inner thighs glisten where he’s buried deep inside. Stockings rolled halfway up, heels digging into his back as she rides him slow at first—then faster, hips snapping like she’s forgotten someone might be watching. His hands grip her ass cheeks hard enough to leave marks while she leans back, tits bouncing just out of reach. The air smells like sweat and something forbidden. When he flips her onto the couch cushions, knees over his shoulders, she doesn’t protest—not even when he spreads her wider than before.
