He gently rolls me over onto my stomach, then leans over to whisper hotly in my ear, “Are you ready?” God, am I ready! In answer, I get up on my k...ees and elbows, and glance over my shoulder with the smokiest look I can give him. It’s all the encouragement he needs, before covering my ass and his cock with copious amounts of lubricant. I’m still a tiny bit nervous, as no one has done this to me in six months, but the anticipation has been killing me now all night. He finally slides the head of. I was the one he fucked like a whore before going home and tucking his children into bed. Guilt, shame, and anger mixed together in my blood. I had been so effortlessly wrapped around his touch. His taste. His smell. I was the other woman. * “Stewart, why don’t you kiss me?” I tease, as we twirl around in circles. There is music in the background and incandescent lighting across the ballroom. My red dress flows with each movement, while his rough hands guide me around and around the dance. After seeing that I was a slut with a feminine side, his kisses got more ardent and we were practically drinking each other's saliva as our tongues licked sensoully inside each other's mouths. He unbuttoned some of my shirt, got his hand in and started to feel me up like a woman. I was so weak with lust that I could barely walk out of the cab into the hotel lobby. On the elevator, alone, we continued our homoerotic passionate necking, sharing mouth fluids and him feeling my man-breasts,. Her scream would have fetched neighbours if there had been any, her sex burned like never before she was suddenly overfull, stretched and that damned thing was rubbing its head against something far inside her belly. The initial pain was sudden and eased fairly quickly, he leaving it in where it had settled in that first strike. Never before had she felt her cunt so full; she had had many a man before, some 7 or even 8 inches, but this one wow, he was something else. She had instinctively.
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