Over the next couple of weeks, Stiles and Derek fucked like absolute animals—whenever, wherever they could steal a moment. Morning “gardening” turned into bent-over fence fucks. Afternoon “borrowing sugar” became quickies on Derek’s kitchen counter. Evenings when Scott was deep in work calls, Stiles would sneak next door and ride Derek’s cock until her legs gave out. They were horny teenagers in adult bodies—raw, reckless, addicted. She’d text him “back door’s open” and he’d be inside her within minutes. She was leaking his cum more often than not, and she fucking loved it.

One particular morning, Scott was still sleeping deeply after a late-night deadline. Stiles felt extra filthy. She slipped into the shower, turned the water hot, and put on a slutty playlist—low bass, explicit lyrics about getting fucked hard. She danced naked under the spray, soaping her big tits slowly, pinching her nipples, then sliding soapy hands between her thighs, rubbing her fat pink pussy while shaking her juicy ass to the beat.