The room was a whirlwind of thunder and drowning wet heat.
Hina's pussy was still grinding slowly over Haruto's face, smearing thick white sticky pussy juice across his lips, chin, and cheeks. The bed creaked violently beneath them with every roll of her hips. His mouth was completely filled with her destroyed folds — swollen, stretched, and leaking nonstop. He could barely breathe. Salty, musky, and overwhelmingly thick. The taste of her years of brutal fucking coated his tongue.
Then Hina moaned deep in her throat — a raw, guttural sound — and suddenly lifted her hips.
She rose up on her knees, straddling him, and looked down at him with that same feral, motherly but devilish smile. Lightning flashed again — the storm outside had grown vicious, wind howling like a living thing outside, rain hammering the roof like bullets. The flashes turned her face into a strobing, predatory masterpiece.
"Time to ruin you, little boy," she whispered.
