She was already wet when she heard him come in. Pink-streaked hair messy, mascara smudged from earlier—no time to wipe it off before straddling him. Legs splayed wide, stockings ripped at the thigh as she sinks down hard, biting his shoulder to muffle her moans. No foreplay needed. Just raw hunger: thighs slapping against his ass while she rides him like he owes her money. When he tries to flip her over? She shakes her head no—not yet—and leans down for a sloppy kiss that leaves lipstick all over his mouth. The real show starts when she grabs his hands. Pinned them onto her tits first—fingers digging into soft flesh while she arches back—and then lower.
