Her membranes were warm and wet surrounding his prick. He lunged and recovered again and again. The strokes were full, powerful and gaining intensity.... Belinda was too absorbed to do other than be Ned’s sexual receptacle. She kept her eyes open but lost close focus. She was staring through him to a distant focal point and compressing the piston pounding her core. Ned lost his control, bounding in her saddle, bouncing the bed and mattress. The inevitable was inescapable, he poured and roared in. He rapidly built to crescendo, the sound of his whacking noticeable, though she doubted he knew it. Then silence. She envisioned the sperm exploding from his unseen penis. Her own stroking intensified as the leaves rustled one last time. She concentrated on bringing herself to orgasm, her fingers moving with practiced ease. She was so engaged that she was surprised, when the kitchen light came on. Shit! She’d always known there was a risk of being caught, but knowing and experiencing it are. More

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