She knew someone was watching when she stripped off those slacks. The custody paperwork was just an excuse to get him alone after years of pretending to be ‘the responsible one.’ Now he’s bent over the couch cushions, ass up, while she pulls down her panties with that slow smirk. Doesn’t even ask permission before sinking onto his face—thick thighs clamping down like a vise. Flips him onto his back mid-thrusts, riding him hard enough to make the coffee table rattle. Her tits bounce free from the bra as she grinds down deeper each time. Slaps his chest once when he tries to flip her—‘Not yet,’ she purrs—and then takes control completely.
