My groans were deep and masculine, and full of need. Hers were soft and feminine, almost a whimper, and full of desire for release.My cock hung betwee... my legs, now hard and dripping precum, but I did not touch it. I wanted to savor nothing but the feeling of being fucked by my wife. The rhythm of her thrusting was driving powerful and consistent waves of pleasure from somewhere deep in my ass to the tip of my cock. I did not need to touch it.I looked back over my shoulder at her face, which. In my haste to rid my mind of these thoughts, I had forgotten my keys. The apartment was dark. Cissy had gone out, and there was no telling when she’d be back. “Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!” I yelled, not caring who heard me. “What a potty mouth on this one,” a deep male voice said. Startled, I whirled around to face the stranger. Mr. Fancy Pants was sitting on the stairs, watching me throw a fit. Even though I was highly pissed, his male aura hit me like a brick. My slit was literally panting now. I. More

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