John suddenly stopped his intense thrusting and paused. He looked me in the eyes and smiled. “Are you Okay?” He asked with kindness.“Yes,” I b...urted. “Yes!”John began his hard, forceful thrusting again only now with a fury and rush that seemed beyond comprehension. Now his rapid-fire assault caused loud spanking sounds to echo from the walls of my bedroom. John’s groans were now getting louder and more frantic sounding. I knew he was near but all I could do was hold onto his back and powerfully. "Sal brought to mind Marge Holland in 506. She was a dame in her mid-fifties who worked a thankless job doing books for the Port Authority downtown. She had told him all her bosses were a "bunch of pricks that couldn't get laid in a whorehouse". The still attractive brunette offered him a shot of Irish Mist after he had cleaned out her kitchen sink pipe line. While he was flat on his back, he could see up her short skirt and saw the flimsy red panties covering her bushy snatch. The little vixen. More

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