She wasn’t supposed to be home yet. Leopard-print bikini clinging to thick thighs, hair still damp from a shower she knew he’d walk in on. The second he touches her waistband—just grazing—she freezes, then smirks like she’s been caught doing something naughty. No panties under that thong, just smooth skin and a pussy already glistening when he presses two fingers inside without asking. She rides them slow at first, hips rolling against the couch cushions until the fabric squeaks with every thrust of his cock buried deep between those heavy tits. When she finally sits up straddling him, mascara smearing from biting her lip too hard? That’s when you know this was never accidental.
