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Her eyes were glazed with drug stupor, but there was contempt in them, too. “What do you think, mister? It’s your ballgame. Go on, fuck away, Dixieland!” She spitefully pulled his broad face to hers and kissed him passionately on the mouth, her tongue burrowing inside to deliberately excite him all the more. She wrapped her arms languorously around his neck and ground her naked tits seductively up into his hairy chest. He was treating her like a whore … well, she could out-whore the bastard! She gave every effort to fucking then, moving in smooth and provocative synchronization to his every thrust, forcing him into longer, smoother strokes. She was calling the shots now, making him march to her drum, using her internal vaginal muscles to suck at his cock in an effort to draw the semen out of the blood- engorged instrument. She gyrated beneath the panting printer, and he, catching her rhythm, began to move as she manipulated him. His balls slapped wetly against her undercarriage, and she reared back and banged into them as hard as she could, mustering all her strength for the counterassault. She would take every inch he could give her, and milk his balls dry with her tightly clenching pussy. She knew he fully intended to empty his balls into her, to fill her with his steaming cum, shooting millions of spermatozoa into her defiled cunt. And she was ready for it! She was about to cum again herself, and she would make this bastard give his load to her! ..[continue reading]..

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