“Oooh, yeah!” she said eagerly as though she’d been offered a sumptuous doughnut, but the only thing she’d been offered was a turgid stonker, and the only thing sumptuous about it was the way it pressed against her boundaries as it slid with increasing rapidity in and out of her twunge.
There was no stopping her. She progressed along the line of guys, applying mammaries and hands to their turgid columns until each one was flopped back in his seat, drowsy and cross-eyed, and her knockers looked like they were coated in icing sugar.
As she curtly dismissed her ladies-in-waiting, she wondered for the umpteenth time what they were really ‘waiting’ for – her, or a severe pounding with a turgid spunk-tube.
“Hoooaaauuurrrggghhhhh,” she sighed vulgarly, lowering herself with great control and undisguised satisfaction onto his turgid rod. The girth of it was just magnificent, a veritable trunk, and it pressed outward beautifully against her walls. She was leaking minge butter down that shaft in no time, and not long afterwards he fired some dairy of his own up that pipe.