Lynn is a knock-out ! She is 34 yrs old and hot, this is the first fourth dimension I actually saw her since her divorce a twelvemonth ago. She has dark shoulder length hair, is 5'9 ”, with a large set of breast, which are about 34C. She is wearing a tight fitting, low cut, blue silk robe, which barely went halfway down her thighs. It is Wednesday. Mid-afternoon, cloudy wintertime day, by the way the lightly filters in through the spline in the blinds.

Lynn just returned from the shower. Her peel is cool off and still a niggling damp. She is laying on her incline ... her right English. Naked. Freshly shaven. I lay behind her. Rubbing her neck and shoulders. Pressing firmly with my prominent, spread hands. Applying imperativeness with my ovolo. I press up against her - completely - from her fundament to her hips. Our bodies molded together.

Her thighs are squeezed gently around my semi-sleeping stopcock. Legs crossed at the human knee. This is nice ... But prissy is not quite what She is in the mode for. She smiles to herself. And purrs. She pushs just a little more firmly back and down. She feels me get to stir, harden. She purrs a little louder.
She is pleased and relieved. She was fully expecting me to say I had to get up.

Another squeeze of the thighs : this fourth dimension not quite so placate. She starts to feel my pulse : vibrate, flicker -- resonate in her clit as I harden against her. Each round bringing us - swelling us both - more fully toward each other. Increasing the force per unit area. Eliminating the unwanted space between us.
She places one hand beneath me. Firmly. Flattening the duration of my hardened irradiation - pressing it up insipid against her. Carefully positioning me between her sass. Spreading herself around me. practically better.

She begins moving now - slowly, back and forth - holding me in space, rubbing herself against me.
My hands - massaging her neck opening and shoulders - point in property occasionally, as she becomes distracted. The massage she is now giving me - decidedly more worry than the one I 'm giving her. She is moving slowly. Deliberately. Making her wet with me. Sliding along my light beam, squeezing me tightly against her. A bantam, barely hearable moan escapes her lips. `` oooohhhh ... mmmm. '' Her distraction is nail now.

She feels my hands slide from her neck opening, shoulder joint, trailing down her back and onto her hips. They rest there -- still for a moment -- as I shift myself, moving in ... pressing my chest tightly against her back, buring my face into her fuzz. She hears me breathe in deeply. Hears my groan low - deep in my throat - almost a growl. `` gggggrrrrrr. ''

And with that, she feels my hands tighten abruptly, grasping her hips with all my strength - press in concentrated and pulling her down forcefully against me. My stifle pinned in against her binding. She looks down and sees the head of my peter between her stage. It is wet from her. It is so strong - the dark purpleness a tearing line to the gentle white thigh it throbs between. My scramble - stretched so tightly -- it gleams. It is screaming up at her for attention ... having been left out of most of the warm sliding.

She pushs forward enough to hold it firmly against her swollen button : rocking back and forth. Bringing another low guttural consonant growl from my throat. `` gggggggrrrrrrrr. '' Yes. It is definitely a growling now. Her centre are closed. But she is envisioning what my well head looks like now - rubbing back and forth against her intemperate clit, between her rim, getting wet, throbbing in perfect clip to the impulse I feel between her legs. That pulse rate is getting faster. She hears my breathing Begin to match it : heavier, more pressing - in synch with her rocking. Locked in with my heart hammering.

Picturing me sliding against her. Aching to bend and advertize me into her. Feeling and hearing the pounding in her heading : red and Shirley Temple flashes behind her close up oculus. Her starve raging in her pussy
Thankfully, I 'm not going to make her postponement. My bridge player suddenly push in against her pelvic arch - taking them firmly in my grasp - lifting her forward and up in one swift, muscular, fluid movement. Just as swiftly - I bring her back down : strong and forcefully ... pulling her pile onto my fully hard, rearing, upright piano long thick cock.

I hold her there. Hard. Feeling her shuddering - her eubstance reeling from the sudden impaling thrust.
I move my bridge player then - sliding my arms through on each side of her and bending them upward, so that my deal come to breathe : one on each of her shoulders. I grab onto them roughly and jerk my hips up violently against her - pulling her down onto me by the shoulders while pushing up with my pelvic girdle.

She begins to impress up - nearly off of me - with each upwards energy of my hip : only to be thrust back down quickly again by my hands - heavy on her shoulders with all of my force play behind them. Slamming her onto me and me into her. She feels my dentition graze the back of her neck opening. She hears that low biting growl again. `` ggggggggrrrrrrrrrr. '' She feels my thrusts becoming more rhythmic, deliberate, recondite, thirster - telling her I 'm getting close ... too close, too soon.

In a rather frantic endeavour at distraction, She reachs down between her peg and grab me firmly by the balls. Pulling them up towards her - suddenly, feeling them in her paw, She longs to discover the secret to having them inside her too. She adores my orb. She feels the pressure building in me. smell my urgency. Knowing now - in her own beguilement -- her grasp on my testicle is compressed than it should be. She feels my teeth clutch at her neck. And take heed a far more unplayful growling escape from my throat. `` GGGGGGRRRRRRR ... UUUUUUUUHHHHHHH. '' It sends her over the edge.

She takes this as a challenge. She wo n't let me cum without her. She peels my script from its handgrip on her shoulder and strength it down firmly between her legs, pushing it unconditional, holding it hard against her aching swollen clit while she rises and falls back onto me –forcefully, furiously, repeatedly, hungrily. Riding me. Rubbing against my handwriting. Delirious. Frantic. Out of herself.

Wrapping me in violent, repeated compression as She begins to cum. Each clutch now met with a force of my own, as I explode into her. One handwriting now on her head - fist wide-cut of her hair - pulling her down onto me, hard, with each hot flooding burst. My low growls are now roars - `` UUUUUUUHHHHHH ... UUUUUUUUUHHHHHH, '' burning into the back of her neck, branding her. The hand that was between her legs : now clutching her proper breast. Smearing it with warm up wet cum - mine and hers. Washing over her in a flood of warmth. My lungs fill again with air. She feels my clutch - on both her pilus and her breast - springiness way, loosen, unbend, chute.

Quiet. I sigh. She falls into me. The flavor of her lying on top of me is satisfing. I am well-to-do under her. I have no desire to move. One of us will break the silence or seduce the slim shift in side. Yes - fools that we are - one of us will make a error that changes the air in the room.
The modification that always wakes the rest of the globe .