Incitar

one man. She is on all fours in a bed of loose golden straw, her back deeply arched, her dress bunched up around her waist, torn lace stockings on her long legs, her ponytail disheveled and sticking to her damp forehead. A man kneels behind her, his hands gripps her hips firmly, his erect penis fully inserted into her vagina from behind, his lower abdomen pressed against her buttocks. Her head is turned back over her shoulder, mouth open mid-cray, cheeks flushed, skin sheened with sweat. The setting is the interior of an empty wooden hors stall inside a shadowy barn, with rough wooden plank walls, a low dividing partition, scattered straw on the floor, and dim cool daylight filtering through gaps in the boards, casting long soft shadows across her arched back and the intimate junction of their bodies.