Slipped it over, draping his shoulders, breasts pressed beneath blouse, waist loose–comfortable, easy, a relaxed wrap that felt like a hug, his biceps flexing as he adjusted. “Looking good,” he said, gentle and warm,Fucked by Crush stepping to the pull-up bar. She caught her reflection–boyish jaw, tired eyes, a body soft where she craved strength–and sighed, a mix of weariness and resolve settling in. The shorts slid down his thighs, revealing his pussy–swollen and slick from arousal, dark hair matted with sweat.