A crimson dress slides off her shoulders as she pivots toward him, revealing curves that barely contain themselves. Barely dressed, the ebony cougar leans into his touch while clutching at his neck before dropping to all fours on the grey couch; hands clamped onto cushions as he pushes deep inside, filling her up until she’s gasping for air. Brad Hart drives home each thrust while Misty Stone’s hips buck wildly against his length, sweat slicking their bodies together in an insane rhythm. She bites down on her knuckles while he pounds relentlessly—her legs wrapped around his waist like a vise grip—until finally collapsing into exhausted bliss.
