She’s got that powerhouse cameltoe, no question. Pink yoga pants stretched tight over a body built for sin. One hand gripping the windowsill like she’s holding back something bigger than herself—until she isn’t. His mouth on her already. No teasing, no buildup—just deep, sloppy licks through fabric while she arches back harder. Ass pressed against glass as he works her clit raw from behind those flimsy seams. ‘Harder,’ she moans low enough to be heard but not caught. Fingers dig into his hair when he finally pulls down just enough to get tongue on wet cotton. Cock slides in before she even finishes undressing properly.
