She released one of his wrists, her hand sliding down to his clit, rubbing through the torn fabric, and he screamed, the dual sensation–her inside him, her fingers on him–pushing him to the edge.

“Yes–fuck, yes,” he gasped, his voice shattering in her throat, and she pounded into him, her fingers relentless. She’d stripped to her boxers in the night, the faded t-shirt tossed to the floor, and her flat chest barely moved with her shallow breaths, ribs faintly visible under pale skin. She stepped closer,Big Breasted her wiry arms flexing weakly, her brown eyes locked on him–his power, his sweat, his body.

Ken dropped the kettlebell, panting, his hazel eyes dark with heat. Do it.” She nodded, accepting, brown eyes steady.

“Thanks,” he said, smile warm, turning to mirror–his body set, outfit alive.