The moment the convulsions have slowed and I’m begging him to stop because it’s too sensitive, Quinn rises to his knees, rips open the zipper on his trousers, and fists his c**k in his hand.
I stare at it with wide eyes. My hammering heart skips a beat, then starts up again, beating even faster.
Thick and veined, the shaft juts out proudly from his fist. The crown is fat and red. The slit on top glistens with a drop of wetness.
His c**k is f*****g huge. Porn star sized. He’d make a killing in erotic movies.
“That look on your face is a bloody nice compliment,” he growls.
Then he positions himself between my spread thighs and slides the head up and down through my p***y lips, wetting it.
I gasp, managing a breathy, “Condom?”
“Wasn’t planning on having s*x today,” he says through grit
