Lightning-Loaded cum squirting, Secunda – 43

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Storm screaming over the beachfront—waves audible through thick glass.
Midnight progressive. Wheel a red-black blur. You lean forward, ass presented. I ram in brutally—table lurches, frame groans.
Pounding matches lightning rhythm: flash—slam—flash—slam. Chips cascade; wheel develops dangerous wobble; ball bounces frantic.
Triple bolt lights everything: arched spine, open mouth, wet claim.
I bury deep and unload—hot pulses overflowing as thunder rolls.
You rise. Dress conceals nothing—glossy rivulets tracing inner thighs.
Slow circuit past the silent players. Past Rolex reflections. Past denial.