He thought he was secret behind the curtain. She knew. Now she’s perched on his lap with her stockings torn at the knees, thighs dripping as she grinds down hard enough to hear the couch creak. Phone forgotten—just his cock buried deep between her tits while she whispers filthy promises about what happens if he ‘tells anyone.’ Switches to cowgirl mid-sentence, nails digging into his shoulders as her pussy clamps down like it owns him. Messy fingers? Already smeared across her lips before she even asks for round two.