Tres Flores - Part 5

She came in looking like trouble—dark hair swinging, that cocky little smile—and within two minutes her panties were somewhere across the room and two thick fingers were knuckle-deep inside her. He worked her like he knew her clit had an off-switch, hooking, stroking, grinding against that soft, spongy spot that made her thighs twitch. Her wetness coated his hand fast; strings of it dripped every time he pulled back and slammed forward again. She braced both palms on the bed frame and stayed open for it, pushing down to meet every thrust. The real show started when he lined up and shoved his cock in—thick, steady pressure until she took every inch, hips flush. The first real thrust knocked the air out of her lungs and the second one earned a filthy little laugh from him. Then he set the pace: deep, punishing, hips slapping skin, balls hitting wet skin on every stroke. He kept her folded, knees pinned near her shoulders so he could watch her hole stretch around the thick shaft and grip every time she came. Orgasm hit quick—she clenched hard, knees knocking, voice cracking into a high moan while her slick leaked down his balls. He never slowed until he emptied inside her, each pump filling her until it spilled out around the base of his cock. She lay ruined and grinning, legs loose, pretty cunt fluttering around the cock she’d just milked dry.