Kelly turns around, bends over and
flips her skirt. She’s painted her ass like a hooker’s face: blue eyes with
overlong lashes, a broad nose straddling her crack, and pouty lipsticked mouth
surrounding her bubble-gum labia. She has pre-lubed herself with massage oil,
so my mission is clear. I open my fly, give my dick a couple of pulls and ram
it home. Then I close the door.
“Oh!”
she groans. “God! I never feel complete without that cock in me. Could you just
follow me around the rest of the day?”
“I
think the necklace-makers of Palo Alto would frown on it.”
“Charge
them admission!”
I
slide out till nothing’s inside but the helmet, then thrust back in. The blue
eyes jiggle.
