Kylie Proves She's a Slut

She pressed her cunt down on his cock slow enough to feel every inch stretch her open. Thick. Hot. Already leaking inside her. Suzanne watched from the armchair, legs spread, one finger resting on her clit like she was judging a performance. The girl rocked forward. Not graceful. Just hungry. She braced her palms on his chest and rode him like she wanted Suzanne to remember it later. Her tits bounced hard with every thrust. Sweat beaded along her spine. She kept eye contact with Suzanne the whole time—smirking, like she knew exactly how fucked up this was. "Look at her," the girl panted, voice cracked from moaning. "She can’t stop watching." Suzanne said nothing. Just stared. The girl leaned down, tits brushing his mouth, and ground her clit against his pelvis until her thighs started to shake. She wanted to come. Wanted Suzanne to see it happen right on top of her husband’s cock. When she finally came—loud, wet, clenching—he followed, gripping her ass like it might save him. The girl stayed seated, letting every pulse flood her before lifting off just enough for Suzanne to see the mess dripping down his shaft. "Well?" she said, still flushed, still out of breath. "How’d I do?"