Little Puck steps in wearing fire-engine red lingerie, looking like she’s about to ring her own bell. She’s dripping already, that neat little slice of heaven shiny between her thighs. Vince doesn’t dawdle. He slides her panties aside and sinks straight into the warmth, every inch swallowed up in a slow, certain push. Her breath catches, turns into a giggle that melts into a moan. The red lace shakes with each thrust; she grips the sheets and tells him harder, like she’s daring gravity itself. He grips her hips, picks up speed, and the whole bed starts a steady beat against the wall, a rhythm you can practically hum along to.
Little Puck steps in wearing fire-engine red lingerie, looking like she’s about to ring her own bell. She’s dripping already, that neat little slice of heaven shiny between her thighs. Vince doesn’t dawdle. He slides her panties aside and sinks straight into the warmth, every inch swallowed up in a slow, certain push. Her breath catches, turns into a giggle that melts into a moan. The red lace shakes with each thrust; she grips the sheets and tells him harder, like she’s daring gravity itself. He grips her hips, picks up speed, and the whole bed starts a steady beat against the wall, a rhythm you can practically hum along to.
