Kitchen countertop abandoned. No dish towel left untouched. She bends over, ass cheeks flaring wide like two pale moons. Cock buried to the knuckle, hips snapping back with every brutal thrust. Her black stockings tear near the knee—ripped by friction. Hands grip armrests, nails digging in as he pulls out just to slam back in. Guttural grunts fill the room. Then—he spins her around, pounds face-down into cushions, fingers tangling in her hair to keep her still while his balls slap against her soaked pussy lips. Finally, she’s flipped onto all fours on the hardwood—no mattress this time—and he goes deep without warning. *
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