Mr. President 1(249)
“Why are you trying to tease me?” I whisper into his ear. “You’re just teasing yourself, Lance… You want that cock inside of me as bad as I do.”
“I do,” he whispers, and then, the whole world explodes. He thrusts violently, his thick shaft sliding inside of me with one single stroke and scorching all of my nerve endings. His cock stretches my inner walls as it goes, making me wonder about how it's possible to have something so huge inside of me. I might not be young anymore, but I still pride myself on having a pussy as tight as a virgin.
He starts ramming it inside of me harshly, his fingers going down my back and nestling under my buttocks. He pulls me up and into him, lifting me off from the floor, and I lock my legs around his back. With my arms over his shoulders, I pull him in and make him move even more viciously, each thrust of his like a stab of pure pleasure, a mind-numbing high that would put any kind of drug to shame. In fact, just two thrusts and I’m already an addict. I’ve always been partial to big cocks, that’s true, but with Lance it feels like this is my first time… I mean, is there anything better than experiencing something like this? Even if it’s as wrong as original sin. Oh, screw that—this being forbidden makes it even better.
Rocking his body against mine in a back and forth motion, our bodies fuse into one, our muscles moving as if we are part of the same machinery. My brain is working overtime trying to process all the information that my nerve endings send it, but it’s almost impossible; there’s a limit to how much pleasure I can handle.
It doesn’t take long for me to come again, my pussy tightening around his cock as I claw at his back. I do it hard, my fingernails sliding across his skin with enough strength to draw blood. A grin dawns on my lips as I imagine how he’s going to look after I’m done with him. When he looks into the mirror tonight, he’s going to have the memories of what we’re doing here etched right into his skin. He’ll remember how he fucked his own stepmother, how she moaned into his ear...
A violent scream climbs up my throat and I purse my lips, throwing my head back against the wall as I order my brain to keep my mouth shut. I have to watch myself. We're in a public dressing room. Even so, I can’t stop a moan from escaping into the cool air of the room, my body burning up with orgasmic violence.
I tremble, shiver, and twitch, all of me burning in ecstasy.
“I like hearing you moan,” he whispers against my ear, his lips seductively brushing against my skin. “Makes everything even better.”
“Then why don’t you make me moan louder?” I tease him, no actually knowing if I can survive this. Have I ever felt this much pleasure? If a moan like that escapes my lips, will security be knocking on the dressing room door?
“Oh… Don’t worry, we’re just starting.”
He pulls back, my skin prickling as I feel his cock sliding out, and puts me down. With a grin on his lips, he places his hands on my waist and turns me around. I place my hands against the wall, shoulder height, and jut my ass back at him. His hands run down my side and he moves them over the curve of my ass, grabbing my buttocks hard. He presses his body against mine, the warmness of his skin spreading through me; with his cock firmly pressed between my buttocks, I start rocking my body, grinding against his cock.#p#分页标题#e#
I exhale sharply, ready for what’s to come; I reach for his cock and, grabbing it, push it down. Placing the tip against my folds, I let go and place my hand back on the wall.
He eases into me gently, my pussy resting against the tip of his erect cock. As he moves, I have to grit my teeth as he pierces me, my inner walls once again accommodating his long thickness. When he’s in me to the hilt, he starts to move with a slow and gently rhythm. But I don’t want to move slowly. I want to go fast. I want to go furious. I start jutting my ass back, moving my hips with a ferocity I didn’t know I had in me.
“Harder…” I tell him harshly. “Fuck me harder… I’m your stepmother, do what I tell you to,” I find myself saying, not even capable of filtering my own words.
“Bossy…” he whispers with a smile. He starts fucking me hard all the same, placing his hands on my hips and pulling me in as he thrusts, my mind almost destroyed by the intensity of his thrusts. My back arches as I succumb to the hard sway of his hips, my body sandwiched between a man that’s half a decade my junior and a slab of concrete, no escape possible. And, really, why would I want an escape? He should be the one wondering about escaping, because I’m not letting him go anywhere—at least not until my body is utterly and completely spent, that is.