Ryder
I started thrusting up into her hard and steadily, each stroke driving deep enough to make her gasp. The bench rocked beneath us. Wood groaned. The canopy lights swayed slightly overhead. Her p***y was so wet I could hear every slick slide — loud, obscene, echoing in the quiet yard. She rode me back, hips slamming down to meet every upward thrust, taking me deeper, grinding her c**t against my pelvis at the end of each stroke.
“Feel that?” I growled against her neck. “My c**k stretching you open. Filling you up. You’re so f*****g tight, baby. So wet. Dripping down my balls.”
She moaned louder. Her hands clutched my hair. Pulled hard. “Yes… f**k, yes… harder…”
I obliged. Thrusts turned brutal, fast, deep, and relentless. Each slam forward made her breasts bounce under her top. I y
