She danced with him a couple nights a week, when her husband was out of town. At first, he could not smell whiskey on her breath. But soon, he noticed that the odor was strong. Her coordination, on those nights, would be off, as was her speech. He got bolder and bolder using his hands and legs to grope her, or run his legs between hers. When he did, he would notice that a slight smile came across her lips. He knew that she knew what he was doing. She thought that it was cute. Art was not sure of himself enough to try to go all the way with her, at least not yet. Mark reminded Art several times that all his planning wasn't worth dip-shit. more ...
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He has not taken his eyes off me and is whispering my name in a throaty groan. Again and again he says it, almost begging, as he nears orgasm. I touch his face, his flushed cheeks, and surrender to the rhythm of our fucking. I am riding a wave of sensation as I ride his cock, my body feels like liquid fire and I feel the gentle tugging at my stomach, and each breast and deep inside my pussy. He comes first, groaning loudly, his legs kicking out from under us, and as he slows his fucking I feel the throbbing of his cock and the thickness of his cum filling me up. He is panting, his face red and wet, and I lean against him kissing his cheeks, his forehead, all the creases near his eyes. For a moment we rest like this and then I start to move against him, pressing my cunt against his still-hard cock, grinding myself against him. more ...