Cricket
Minus pulled the truck into a shaded area of the park, overlooking the Columbia River, and slid his seat back as far as it would go. I was suddenly glad we were in the huge monstrosity he’d bought last year, instead of on his bike.
Minus unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down his thighs. His d**k was already hard, and my mouth watered to taste him. “Hop on, baby.”
I straddled his lap and he pushed my panties to the side and guided his c**k inside of me. I groaned, sliding down his length, relishing the feeling of his girth filling me. “Jesus,” I hissed out.
“Not Jesus, Cricket,” he corrected, sliding my skirt up higher. My knee-high boots squeaked against the leather seat, but I didn’t want to stop to take them off. “Say my name.”
“Would it kill the moo
