I can’t help but cry out. I’m gripping the counter so hard that my knuckles are white. I’m sure I’m going to have bruises on my hips tomorrow — some from his hands, and some from the hard countertop.
He continues to ride me hard, harder than Aaron did last week, and his thumb is rubbing my swollen c**t in the most delicious way. I can hear him grunting with each thrust, pounding into me.
I should be worried about getting caught, but I’m not. I don’t really care. The only thing I care about right now is the c**k buried deep inside my wet, dripping p***y and the hot muscled hunk it’s attached to. The hand that was bruising my hips shifts.
I feel his fingers brush against the fabric of my dress, and then they’re on my skin. The dress is backless, and he takes full advantage, grazing his fi
