Angela's nails dug deeper into my hip—body arching, pussy spasming wildly as another muffled moan slipped free: "Mmmph… ahh… f-fuck…" She turned it into a fake yawn, but her hips bucked back harder, taking me deeper, her bare lips sucking at my cock like they never wanted to let go.
Mira shifted slightly—propping up higher, eyes narrowing on Angela's lap where the dark wet patch had spread even further, outlining the shape of her swollen mound. "Angela… your pants… they're… wet. Did you spill something?"
Angela's eyes snapped open—panic flashing as I rolled my hips in a deep grind, stirring her depths, cockhead dragging over every sensitive ridge.
Her clit caught on the rough denim edge again—rubbing raw, sending shocks up her spine. A fresh squirt leaked out around my base, soaking the torn fabric further.
