Fear Of Godson

Sherry’s big tits bounce under that thin tank top every time she storms through the house looking for her husband. Ray’s been gone three days, and she’s pissed, horny, and finally done fighting about their creepy-ass godson. Ethan sits on the edge of the bed watching her pace, legs spread like he owns the place. She starts talking about how Ray’s lost it, but the words die when Ethan pulls her between his knees and presses his face to her stomach. She gasps. His tongue traces the underside of her heavy tits through the fabric, teeth catching a nipple, sucking hard till it pops free. She moans, hands in his hair, and that’s all the invitation he needs. He yanks the tank top over her head, latches on, and sucks greedily, wet and noisy, while his fingers shove into her panties and find her already slick. Sherry grinds down on his hand, head tipped back, brunette hair sticking to her flushed skin. She’s still muttering Ray’s name when Ethan stands, flips her onto the mattress, and buries his cock in one thrust—thick, deep, no warm-up. He fucks her like he’s been waiting for this exact breakdown, slapping her tits, growling filthy shit while she claws at his back. Every time her pussy clenches he goes harder, grinding her clit with his pelvis until she’s sobbing and coming all over his balls. He doesn’t slow down. Just keeps pounding, sweat-slick and grinning, like he knew Ray would break first.