On her side. Head where it was. Eyes on mine.She reached up and held my cheek. My hand found her side. Her hand moved to my shoulder. Mine went to her...back. She rubbed her head into her pillow, and it formed itself into a very accurate likeness of a steel rod. Her hand left my shoulder and found my waist. My hand pressed her back, moving her a bit closer. Her hand found the steel. And it moved. Slowly. Rhythmically. My hand journeyed into her loose robe and found the waistband of her. "Oh god oh god oh god. That's so fucking cool." Ron snugged into her, pulled her ass half off the bed. He wrapped one arm around her leg and spread his other out across her flat stomach.That's been one of Ron's moves since before we met. I guess he gets some kind of stronger connection and sense of control out of it. He's told me that feeling the woman's body like that, sort of holding her between his hand as is dick just feels very natural to him.Laura liked it. The tips of his fingers pressed. He pressed the head into her then withdrew it, then pushed it back in and pulled it back out several more times, making her beg for it.She moaned loudly as she said, "Please Jack! Please make love to me now! I want you so bad right now!"He positioned his shaft at her leaking opening, grabbed her hips with both hands and thrust completely within her sheath. "Ahhh Jack, Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm, ooohhhhhhh God!" she moaned as he moved in and out of her wetness. Each thrust of his steel and silken rod was. The two women had not made many acquaintances beyond the circle of customers and clients of the print shop, but she wondered if anyone she recognized was there. An exception was Roger, Sandrine’s pupil, and his family, who had met Sandrine in advance to satisfy themselves she would be a suitable influence on the boy. From the perspective of Roger, she clearly was. Sandrine seemed to feel the same way. Roger was vigorous and eager to learn. Perhaps not so much about French as about other.