P*rnstation
He grinned, his greasy fingers sliding down, finding my soaked pussy.
“Fucking drenched,” he said, his fingers stroking my folds, spreading my juices. I gasped, my clit throbbing under his touch, the grease making every glide obscene. My legs shook, braced against the workbench.
He slid one finger inside me, then two, stretching my pussy tight. I moaned, loud, the sound echoing off the concrete walls. The garage’s hum—a distant car engine—made it feel riskier, dirtier.
His thumb circled my clit, rough and relentless, and I cried out, my hips grinding against his hand. My juices mixed with the oil, dripping down my thighs, pooling on the floor. I was close, so fucking close.