This woman has been waiting all day. White uniform clinging just enough to show off the curves she knows drive men wild, hands that’ve kneaded more than sore muscles. Starts slow—fingers tracing edges, lips parting as she leans in close—but there’s no patience left by the third stroke. Red towel pooled on the bed? Doesn’t matter. She straddles him before he can blink, riding like a pro who’s done this a thousand times before. Tits bouncing with every thrust, nails digging into his back when it gets too good. No lube needed—she’s slick from years of practice.
