She knew someone was watching but pretended not to care. Red lace barely covering her heavy tits, thighs already glistening from earlier. He’s on his knees first—her hands shoving him down before he can even react—and now she’s grinding that thick shaft against her face like it’s hers to play with. No warning, no mercy; just raw control. The couch cushions are soaked by the time she flips him onto his back and straddles him, stockings snagging on the fabric. Her pussy drips onto his stomach as she rides him slow at first—then faster when he tries to grab her hips. She slaps his hands away every time, keeping him helpless under her weight.
