Tan lines on her inner thighs where stockings used to be. The couch cushion sinks under her weight, legs spread just enough to see the pink glow of her stretched pussy lips before he even touches her. One hand grips the back of his neck, pulling him in closer while the other fingers dig into the fabric beneath her—like she’s holding on for dear life. No foreplay, no teasing; just raw hunger as he buries himself balls-deep with a groan that makes her nails bite harder into his shoulders. The angle shifts—now it’s all ass, cheeks jiggling with every slam.
