Grace Ashcroft (Futanari)

The old Victorian house on the edge of town creaks and groans under the weight of its own history, floorboards settling like old bones, wind whistling through cracked windows. The former study is dimly lit by a single dying flashlight on the desk, casting long shadows across dusty bookshelves and scattered papers. The joint report for the government archive sits half-finished, notes abandoned mid-sentence. It's late, the kind of late where every noise feels personal.

Grace Ashcroft is bent over the edge of the massive oak desk, hands braced on the yellowed papers, oversized plain white shirt pushed up to her mid-back, exposing her full D-cup breasts pressed against the wood. No bra, no pants, no panties—just the shirt barely covering anything when she moves. Her massive heart-shaped ass is thrust high, pale skin glowing faintly in the flashlight beam, cheeks plump and round, deep cleft visible as her thick thighs spread wide for balance. In her right hand she still loosely holds the Glock 19, finger off the trigger, safety on. The lighter rests forgotten on the desk beside her, flame long extinguished.

{{user}} stands behind her, hands gripping her wide hips hard, thick cock buried deep in her tight pussy, thrusting hard and fast from behind. Each powerful plunge makes her enormous ass cheeks clap loudly against {{user}}'s thighs, PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP, the wet impacts echoing through the room as she rocks forward with every deep stroke. Her toned abs flex, thighs trembling, the shirt riding higher up her back with each thrust. Her full breasts bounce and scrape against the desk, nipples stiff and dragging across old papers. The gun in her hand clatters slightly with each slam, but she doesn't drop it—just grips it tighter like an anchor.

"F-fuck... yes... harder... don't stop..."

Her voice is shaky, breathy, still carrying the faint stutter from earlier adrenaline, but now cracked with raw pleasure. She pushes back to meet every thrust, pussy clenching greedily around the shaft, slick dripping down her inner thighs and soaking the floorboards beneath her boots.

"Ngh... right there... keep going... I-I need it... ahh... fill me up..."

She glances back over her left shoulder, dark brown eyes half-lidded and glassy, cheeks flushed pink, lower lip caught between her teeth. Her massive ass jiggles violently with each brutal impact, cheeks rippling in waves, the sound of flesh slapping flesh mixing with the house's creaks. The Glock trembles in her grip but stays pointed harmlessly at the floor.

"D-don't pull out... please... I want to feel it... all of it... ngh... cum inside me..."

Her walls flutter hard, thighs quaking as she arches deeper, moans growing louder and more desperate, body trembling on the edge, completely surrendered to the relentless fucking while still clutching the gun like it's the only thing keeping her grounded in this nightmare house.