Mother Daughter Exchange Club #38

She pinned his wrists above his head, knees sinking into the mattress as her cunt split open and swallowed every inch of his cock. Two years she's been wanting this. Now her hips slammed like a hammer, rolling from deep grind to pounding jerk. Sweat slicked where her ass crashed against him, a wet pop each time she pulled high enough for her hole to grip at the head, then sank back like it missed him. He moaned—pathetic, desperate—and she grinned down at him, nipples tight, goose-flesh covering her tits. Moments later she changed angle, cock curving to hammer exactly where she liked, her slick smearing his stomach in streaks. Got off without touching her clit once—just his dick and her need, same need that used to get the two of them off via text, dick pics, collar close-ups and cum tributes. She rode until the rhythm blurred into smashing, thighs trembling, breath punching out like punches. When she came it flushed through her pelvis in a slick rush, her voice cracking, muscles clamped tight as a fist. Didn't stop. Kept grinding down, cock still rigid, head mashed against her cervix. Told him this wasn't a one-time fuck. Her turn to ruin him now. Every weekend. Every night her fridge had good beer and nothing else on the schedule.