His hands welded themselves to the sides of my face, keeping his plunder close, and his groin ground against mine. I met him stroke for stroke. My to...gue danced a tango with his while my hands kept a tight grip on his hips, keeping his body in constant contact with mine. My breasts smashed into his chest and my nipples bore into his shirt through the thin materials between us. We stayed like this for an eternity. The knowledge that we were safe and secure in our own nest afforded us no slowing. He nodded.“Okay,” he said. “We will delay our honeymoon until after your wedding. I don’t see Ann as complaining about that.”“Okay, I hadn’t thought of that. If she does seem a little skittish, we can postpone until say Valentine’s Day,” I said. “Wait, you know that’s a good idea. Valentine’s Day, how super romantic would that be!”“Okay, if you can get your woman to go for it, the delay,” he said.“I don’t think that that would be a problem. And we will be having our honeymoon in Cancun,” I. When the guys would beg to fuck me, I would get them off with a hand job. I am the High School Hand Job Princess, and I like it. Despite the fact that I was rather popular (I was a cheerleader for 3 of my 4 years in high school), I never really felt like I belonged around them. I was always different to them and there was little I could do to change that.I am popular with the guys. I am 5'-4” tall (which contributed to long, slender legs that I am quite proud of) and my breasts, D-cup breasts. Neither of them rushed. Instead, they let the seeds of desire slowly blossom under a gentle, steady undulation of their hips and the tender caressing of their hands.She came first. Then increasing the rocking, plunging motion of her pelvis, she fucked him until she received another flood of sperm and semen gushing hotly into the welcoming recesses of her belly.She declined another offer for a "refreshing plunge" into the pond in favor of just rinsing the well-used mound of her sex, as she waded.