Contributor: J. Holgar
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Cunt. That's what he calls her, snarls it as he throws her to the rug. The way she likes it, the way she needs it. Need runs down her thighs in sugary slicks. Skin rises red as he beats her. The way she likes it, the way she needs it. Need comes echoed in the subtle tones of her desperate moan. He is hard. She knows he is hard, but as she reaches, arches, he pulls away, rises more skin red and ready. Arching, she feels his heat, the heat of his need, reaches, arches, reaches, arches. Hands twist into the rug, and then she has him. She has him. Every inch of him. Every inch of his hard, hot cock. He is the fire, she is the fuel. She takes him, rises, screams, rides, rides, and as he stiffens she rolls over him, tightens in the way he likes it, the way he needs it. hands twist into skin, and then he has her. Every inch of her. Every inch of her wet, desperate to swallow as he explodes within her.
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J. Holgar thinks that the best sex is poetry.
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Cunt. That's what he calls her, snarls it as he throws her to the rug. The way she likes it, the way she needs it. Need runs down her thighs in sugary slicks. Skin rises red as he beats her. The way she likes it, the way she needs it. Need comes echoed in the subtle tones of her desperate moan. He is hard. She knows he is hard, but as she reaches, arches, he pulls away, rises more skin red and ready. Arching, she feels his heat, the heat of his need, reaches, arches, reaches, arches. Hands twist into the rug, and then she has him. She has him. Every inch of him. Every inch of his hard, hot cock. He is the fire, she is the fuel. She takes him, rises, screams, rides, rides, and as he stiffens she rolls over him, tightens in the way he likes it, the way he needs it. hands twist into skin, and then he has her. Every inch of her. Every inch of her wet, desperate to swallow as he explodes within her.
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J. Holgar thinks that the best sex is poetry.
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Author:
J. Holgar
