paris yang

“What are you doing? We can’t! We don’t have time!” I ignored her and pushed her panties over her hips. Despite her protests, Carol kicked off her wet panties as they dropped to the floor and spread her legs, bending forward. “Are you crazy?” she whispered. “Someone is going…oh!” Carol gasped as my cock thrusted deep inside her. “Really Jim we can’t…” Yet her hips gently fucked my dick, sliding her pussy along my shaft. I pinned her tighter against the mirror. I held her arms over her head as I violently slammed my cock into her pussy.

“Hold this,” she said. “I’ll hold your dick.” I have since seen many naked women in person, but Mrs. B. was one of the most memorable. Pure white, lightly freckled skin, perky B-cup tits, trimmed, fiery red pussy hair matching her long, red tresses. “Take a drink,” she invited, smiling warmly at me as she stroked my soapy shaft and played with my balls. The drink was vodka and OJ, strong but not incapacitating. I chugged about half and offered it to Mrs. B. She chugged the rest, set down the cup and returned to playing with my cock and balls.“God, you look beautiful, Mrs. B. So hot.”

As carefully as she could, she untangled herself from his legs and slipped out of his bed and made for the door. As she walked back to her room her mind was doing somersaults.What was she thinking?Why did it smell so good?What if he woke up?How would I even explain myself?Did I taste it?I need to smell it again.Why can’t I get the taste out of my mind?