Gabriela's lips curled into a slow, wicked grin. She didn't speak—didn't need to. She simply sauntered closer—towel now draped loosely over one shoulder, tits bouncing freely, nipples still red and swollen from earlier abuse. Cum continued to drip from her cunt with every step—leaving a glistening trail behind her like she was marking her territory.
She stopped at the edge of the bed—close enough that I could smell the clean soap on her skin mixed with the faint musk of her arousal—and leaned down, pretending to adjust the blanket near my shoulder.
Her voice came out sweet, innocent—loud enough for Samantha to hear under the covers.
"Feeling better, husband? You look… tense."
Under the blanket, Samantha's breath hitched—hot against my chest. Her thigh flexed—squeezing my cock between her soft skin and her own body—then rocked once, subtle but deliberate, letting the head drag along her inner thigh in a slow, teasing slide.
I groaned—soft, involuntary—hips twitching upward.
