Floor fuck. No couch, no bed—just cold tiles and a pair of legs wrapped tight around his waist. Black stockings bunch at her thighs while she rides him like it’s 1987 all over again, hips rolling slow but deliberate. Her tits bounce with every thrust, nipples pressing against some guy’s shirt who never stood a chance. Hands grip the back of his neck like he’s hers to use—and God help him if he stops before she says so. Cum drips down her crack where they’re already stuck together.