In the room, Margaret leaned against the window frame, her teeth biting down on her lush lower lip. Her eyes were misty, unable to focus clearly on the ornate fountain outside the window. Her vision swayed, a dizzying haze enveloping her.
Winchester stood behind her, his hands gripping her soft waist, panting as he thrust himself into her tight, warm embrace.
He was still dressed in a neat shirt, but all the buttons were undone, revealing the well-defined muscles of his chest and abdomen. Fine beads of sweat trickled down his neck, pooling at his pale pink nipples before trailing down his undulating torso. With each vigorous thrust, his swollen testicles slapped against her wet petals, the sound vulgar yet erotic.
"Mmm..."
Margaret's legs grew weak, unable to support her weight. She clutched the window frame, her nails digging into the intricate patterns of the wood, intermittently accusing, "This position is so tiring... Is Winchester bullying me?"
