I pulled her off my cock again—slow, torturouslyslow, letting her swollen lips drag along every veined inch, milking the last thick strings of silver spit until they snapped and fell in heavy ropes onto her heaving chest.
She gasped—ragged, sobbing inhale—perfect, heavy tits rising and falling fast, nipples dark and painfully erect, spit-glazed and glistening under the fluorescent glare.
Her eyes were feral—pupils blown black. The torn dress dangled in pathetic black ribbons around her hips, doing nothing to conceal the wreckage: flushed skin, trembling thighs, pussy visibly dripping down the insides in slow, obscene trails.
I spun her around—gentle but unyielding—until her front pressed flush to the cold metal stall partition.
Her palms slapped flat against it; she arched instantly—spine curving into a deep, desperate bow, ass thrusting back toward me like her body had already surrendered what her mind was still fighting, ready to receive me.
