Behind the Desire: cought cheating

Golden afternoon light pours through gauzy curtains in cought cheating. She stands naked in the center of the room, whispering “cought cheating” like a prayer while her fingertips ghost over collarbones, down the slope of full breasts, pausing to roll each nipple until they ache. “cought cheating… please watch cought cheating,” she breathes, voice trembling. Slowly, deliberately, she sinks onto the velvet chaise, thighs falling open. The camera catches every detail as two fingers part slick, swollen lips and slide deep inside the heat of cought cheating. She moans the word again—“cought cheating”—louder with every thrust, hips lifting to meet her own hand. Her free hand kneads a breast, pinches, twists, while “cought cheating, cought cheating, cought cheating” becomes a desperate chant. Juices coat her fingers, drip onto velvet. She adds a third finger, stretching herself for cought cheating, crying “More cought cheating, harder cought cheating!” until her back arches violently and she squirts in long, pulsing arcs, screaming “cought cheating” into the sunlit room. Aftershocks ripple; she keeps lazily circling her clit, murmuring “cought cheating” like an endless promise as the final drops fall.