She pretends to adjust the blanket but doesn’t hide fast enough. Thick thighs parting on the couch, condom already rolled down—she knew someone was watching. Eyes half-lidded, lips parted like she’s waiting for permission. Hands gripping the armrests as he slams up into her from behind, muffled moans vibrating through the cushions. Then she turns her head just slightly… like she knows you’re there. Flips over mid-thrust, riding him slow and deliberate while her fingers dig into his shoulders. The couch creaks under their weight as he pins her wrists above her head—her breath hitches when he pulls out nearly all the way before slamming back in hard.
