She starts with her knees digging into the couch cushions, thick thighs splayed wide as he SLAMS up from behind—no teasing, no buildup. Just pure fucking hunger. That blonde hair’s messy now, mascara smeared from clawing at pillows while she rides him back down to earth. First it’s her tits bouncing like they’re made for this kind of rough play—grabbed hard enough to leave marks—but she doesn’t care. The second he pulls out just long enough to flip her onto her stomach does she realize how wet she still is. No lube needed; years of practice make sure every inch gets soaked.