Valentina's thighs were pure fire—elite quads screaming, deep vascular cuts glistening with rivers of sweat pouring down like she'd been dipped in oil, every shredded fiber quivering uncontrollably from the endless, stamina-shattering squat bounces.
She couldn't hold the deep position anymore—muscles locking in mutiny, knees buckling.
With a broken, guttural whimper—"Nngh—fuck—can't—hold—"
—she dropped forward onto her knees, straddling his hips wide again, hands slamming back onto his carved chest for desperate balance, nails gouging bloody crescents into his skin.
But she didn't stop moving. Her body wouldn't let her—addicted, enslaved to the Fiery Cock buried inside.
Her ass took over.
Just her ass.
Nothing else existed.
Just that thick, sculpted, porn-perfect bubble butt rising like a fucking monument—golden skin stretched tight over dense, powerful glutes that flexed and swelled with obscene pride.
