Romantic

Cindy’s 34FF tits bounce mercilessly beneath her sweater as her stepbrother Tim palms her ass in public, the mall crowd oblivious to their forbidden hunger. Her thong clings to her dripping pussy while his bulging cock strains against denim—fuck, he’s hung like a fucking stallion, she thinks, thighs rubbing between swishing skirt hem and knee-high boots. Far from home, the stepsiblings shed pretense: his greedy fingers claim her curves, her whispers promise filth, their shared bloodlessness only fueling the taboo. “Try on tops,” Tim growls, dragging her into Minx, where salesgirls seethe as Cindy flaunts cleavage in stretch-fabric torture—every hiked hem and flushed cheek taunting their dirty secret.

Rush-hour lust explodes in a motel room: her bra barely contains colossal tits as she slams onto his 9-inch cock, screaming “Fuck your stepsister harder!” Spit-slick skin slaps, her cunt milking him raw, his cum flooding her womb as she collapses on his chest. But the clock bleeds their stolen ecstasy dry… Can they resist fucking again in the car ride home—or will their mother’s lasagna dinner find them sticky, reeking of sin, limbs trembling from unfinished need?

John’s Valentine’s surprise wasn’t roses or champagne—it was Paul’s email, tucked beside my wineglass with a wicked grin. “Your fantasy,” he purred. “Make it real.” One call sealed it: a hotel rendezvous with the silver-fox stranger whose voice alone had me wet and squirming by dessert.

Dressed to unravel him—skimpy skirt, sheer stockings, lace so thin it might as well vanish—I watched Paul’s hungry gaze devour me across the bar. John’s possessive kiss goodbye was all the permission I needed. Paul’s fingers teased higher beneath the table, his whispered offer curling like smoke: “Room 109…if you want me.”

Want him? I ached.

The second the door closed, we were a frenzy of teeth, tongues, and desperate hands. His thick fingers split my soaked thong, his mouth worshiped my pussy until I screamed, and his cock—god, that cock—stretched me open on the bed, then my knees, as I begged him to take my ass rough and deep. He spilled across my trembling skin, marking me as thoroughly as John’s feverish reclaiming later—fucking my throat in the car, my ass at dawn—would prove just how much he’d loved every filthy second.

But that first taste of Paul’s dominance? Unforgettable…and far from the last. Ready to ruin me again, gentlemen?