Backroom dealings with no time for foreplay—she’s already on her knees before the couch even stops creaking. Red lipstick smudged, hair half-pinned up like she was grabbed middaydream, and that thick cock slides past her lips without warning. Gagging but greedy, hands gripping his thighs as if begging for more. No mercy from him either—deepthroat attempts turn into rough face-fucks, saliva dripping down her chin while she fights to keep up. The living room stays eerily quiet except for wet slurps and gagd gasps. Then the switch: legs spread over the armrest of the couch like some kind of forbidden offering.
