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Jasmin Marchand threw her head back again with a squeal of
delight, her cunt tightly wrapped around Mark Archer's turgid shaft. Her
breasts were in his hands and he was playing with her soft flesh and the
pebbled knots of her nipples as she squealed and shuddered on top of him. They
were in a hotel suite, on the carpet in the sitting area, and Jasmin still had
her shoes and glasses on, cum from their first coupling still shining wetly on
her belly.
She rode him hard, bouncing on her heels and rocking her hips, repeatedly
impaling herself on his shaft, eyes shut tight and crying out as he cupped her
breasts in his hands, teasing the swollen brown tips with his fingers. He
suddenly raised his head up and took one into his mouth, sucking hard and
making her gasp and shudder in pleasure on top of him.
A moment, and then his head fell back, her nipple popping out of his mouth,
and she continued to slide up and down his shaft as his hands reached for her
breasts again. Jasmin opened her eyes then, staring down at him through glazed
eyes from behind her glasses as her mind once again went back to how they had
met; who would have thought that she would be taking his cock into her body
for the umpteenth time just a little over a month later?
He was not her 'type', certainly not - he was not lean, tall and blonde. But
there she was, frantically riding him on the carpet of a hotel room and
getting ready to cry out in what would be her second orgasm in fifteen
minutes. She let out a soft hiss as he started thrusting back up into her in
earnest, fucking her back, kneading her soft firm breasts in his hands.
"Ooh ... yes!... just like that ... yess! ..."
