That first kiss on the couch was just foreplay—now she’s straddling him with practiced ease, those stretch-marked thighs squeezing his ribs like a vise. Tits jiggling every time he thrusts up, nails digging into his shoulders as she rides it out. Then—flip—countertop edge digs into her hips but she doesn’t care; legs hooked over his arms, ass in the air for round two. Fingers tracing where they both know it’ll end: red marks on pale skin and cum dripping down her inner thigh.