...Didn’t Expect The Mature Hostess To Flip Him On The Sofa

Peeking through the curtains — didn’t expect this. Stocking-clad thighs spread wide on that damn couch, creaking under her weight. Bent over the armrest, ass up for anyone watching (she knew someone was there). Then—click—flips onto her back like a switch flipped in her head. Legs wrap tight around his hips, heels digging into his lower back. No foreplay needed when she’s already dripping wet from those fingers earlier. Cock buried deep in that tight pussy with every thrust, tits bouncing free from whatever lace restraint held them before. Switches mid-sentence—no warning—hands gripping his shoulders and lifting, pulling him down hard enough to make the cushions groan.