A draft? What the....?! CLICK-whirrrrrr. "Gotcha!" Karen bounded from the room, now clad in a white terry-cloth robe, a Polaroid camera in one hand, a... about-to-be embarrassing photo in the other. It took me about 30 seconds to hop into my jeans. Most of that was being careful not to zip up my still-hard rod. Then I stormed down the hall, ready to tear her room apart to find that photo. But as I burst into her room (by now you've probably figured out that our bedroom doors don't lock), Karen. Again I experienced this extraordinary feeling of closeness to her. And then she pulled her lips away from mine in order to speak to Carl. In that soft tone of hers, the tone that she puts on when she wants something, she asked him to fuck her harder. I usually find it difficult to say no to such persuasive entreaties. And so did Carl!She also wanted him to fuck her deeper, judging by the way she had wrapped her legs around his waist, thereby making herself even more open for him. And Carl was. More

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