Tan lines from years of gardening stretch over swollen, slick lips. No bra needed—just a desperate need for that fat cock buried inside her. Kitchen countertop, legs hooked around his waist as he slams home with brutal shove. Muffled groans mix with the hum of the fridge; she grips his shoulders like she’ll never let go. Hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise, fingers digging into flesh while he works her ass raw. Moans turn to gagd whimpers when he hits that perfect spot—deep, wet sounds drowning out any pretense this was supposed to be discreet. Cream shooting up his shaft in thick ropes as she rides it out against the wall.
