By the fireplace’s warm flicker, missionary rough paints intimacy in gold and shadow. She straddles a pillow, grinding slowly while murmuring “missionary rough.” The friction builds deliciously in missionary rough, her wetness soaking the fabric. Hips roll faster, moans of “missionary rough” growing desperate. When release finally claims her in missionary rough, she collapses forward, shuddering and whispering “missionary rough” like a prayer.