Stepdaughter Lory Lace takes it rough on the couch

Silver-streaked hair tumbling over flushed cheeks, the stepmother in the black dress kneels on the leather couch with thighs already parted. Fingers trail down her sternum before slipping beneath the hem, teasing wetness that glistens under the lamp. A low chuckle escapes her lips as she catches her reflection in the framed art above the fireplace, then she’s on her back with legs hooked over the armrest. The unseen man grips her hips and drives in hard—her spine arches off the cushions, stockings snagging against the leather with every thrust. Between gasps she murmurs his name, voice rough, before flipping onto all fours and shaking that ass in slow figure-eights—