And why not? After all, they keep her feet warm. Other than her candy pink socks, she is naked, pure, ripe for fucking. And she’s about to be fucked, rigidly, deeply, penetratively, harder, than she’s ever been fucked before.
He crouches over her, his legs astride her smooth tight arse, as she squats on all fours for him on their quilted bed. She feels his coarse hand glide up her soft inner thigh, gently, as light as a feather brushing her flesh, heightening her arousal, ‘Oh, whoa, yes, feel my clit.’
He splays her bald cunt, parting her flappy beige folds and feels the sheen of moisture coating her raw steak flesh, teasing her swollen clit with the tip of his finger. Her clit erect, her pearl bead hardened by his intimate caress, she moans,’ Oh, ah, yes, ma, my feel my cunt, oh, yes, mmmn.’
And why not? After all, she’s wet, willing, craving his intervention, her impalement on his cock. He plunges his thick fingers inside her fuck-hole, feeling the slimy mucus lining her inner flesh, her birth muscles clenching him, listens to her squeals of ecstasy, ‘Oh, ah, whoa, mmmn, yes,’ her pled demand, ‘Fuck my arse.’
He crouches astride her smooth tight arse, grips her buttock, splaying her arsehole, revealing her anal sphincter muscle, twitching for his cock, and slowly slides it inside her, bearing down on her, clogging up her rectal tract with his throbbing cock, constipating her, she moans, ‘Fuck me, slow-mo, fuck my arse, hard, deep and slow.’
He ignores her pleas, fucking her as if she's his bitch on heat, his girl dog:
He grips her wrist and roughly tugs her hand, her slim, pale arm, behind her back. He fucks her slimy arse with long, deep, penetrative strokes taking her arse, slowly, fully, grasping her little breasts, kneading her dough flesh, teasing out the teats on her dusky pink nipples: stiff, perked.
‘Hold my neck.’
He grips her neck firmly, yet considerately, settling her blonde head to one side, allowing her to breathe easily.