She had, yet again, felt bold. Letting him f**k her against the bathroom door like that. She’d seen stars flashing in front of her eyes during that. Then she’d clean forgotten how to stand, or talk. George had taken care of her, and sat her down to check he’d not done something wrong. Could the man get much better? He had been glorious in his f*****g, and she’d tried hard to keep up with him.
And now she’d asked to watch him touch himself. Where was her brain? Apparently somewhere in her comfortably sore p***y. That was again making her core hot and a little achy as she watches her man stroke himself in the shower stall.
She watches carefully, noting how he strokes the vein on the underside gently, and how he rubs his thumb over the tip occasionally. The gentle twist of his wrist that m
