"Ohh… Uhmm… Ahh… Ohh…" Syrla's moans spilled out, a melody of pleasure that rose and fell with each thrust.
Her voice was raw, unrestrained, echoing off the walls of the dimly lit room.
Her maroon dress clung to her curves, the fabric bunched around her hips, accentuating the arch of her body as she surrendered to the sensation.
Alex's gaze flicked over her, drinking in the sight, her flushed cheeks, her half-lidded eyes, the way her lips parted with every cry.
He gradually increased the pace, the force of his thrusts intensifying until he found a rhythm that felt primal, almost relentless.
Syrla moaned again, louder this time, as his body collided with hers.
The sharp slap… slap… slap! of skin against skin filled the air, a percussive beat that underscored their shared urgency.
Her curvy backside jolted with each impact, the sound mingling with the wet friction of his rod plunging into her core.