She didn’t expect to see it again—stepdad’s hands gripping her hips, cock buried so deep she can feel it in her stomach. Bent over the couch cushions, tits swinging as he pounds harder. Then that—flips her onto the mattress, spreads those long legs apart with his knee while his other hand grabs a fistful of hair. No foreplay needed here. Just raw hunger—the way his breath hitches when she arches up to meet every stroke, nails digging into his shoulders like she wants to mark him too. Switches positions mid-thrust: now riding backward on his lap with that tight little ass grinding against him.
