Tan lines creeping over thick thighs where stockings would’ve been if she’d bothered. Ass spread wide in the tub, cheeks jiggling as he kneels between them—no warning needed here. First thrust buries him balls-deep; she gasps but doesn’t flinch. Hands grip the porcelain edge like it’s her last lifeline before he starts working it: slow at first, then faster until water splashes everywhere. When he pulls out just long enough to spit on his fingers and circle that tight little hole? Oh yeah—she knows what’s coming next.