Sneaky POV through the door: Glasses perched on her nose, that tattooed arm flexing as she pretends not to notice someone watching. Red dress riding up mid-motion—fingers already slick with oil before she even realizes what’s happening. ‘Not ointment… but I have oil,’ whispers like a confession. Couch cushions sink under her weight, tits heaving as she arches back, legs spread just enough for that first deep thrust from behind. No warning, no lube needed—just raw heat and wetness as the angle hits different every time. Tongue out**, eyes half-lidded, begging for more while pretending this isn’t exactly what she wanted all along.
