Teasing the outside an only pushing it in a little, teasing it to prepare it for later penetration. I couldn't take it anymore I was to hot an horny t... let him do this. I threw him on the wall and leaned on him. I then got really close to his ear and whispered. "fuck me nice and hard." it seemed to start a spark in his eye replaying what I was saying. then that spark what down to his dick and I could feel it getting hard against my leg, so I did what any horny slutty girl would do (Racheal) i. Your suckling intensifies again as your hips gentle buck up against my hand. The way you suck on me, it’s like there’s some secret cord straight to my clit. I know I’m getting excited and you can hear it as my breath becomes more rapid. There was never any doubt I was going to do this and my hand begins to move. Enveloping you my touch is met with instant twitching and pulsing. Your hips rock gently in my hands as your need increases. “I’m a good boy aren’t I?” You begin to ask as you become. When my wife asked about it I let it slip that I thought sex had become routine. It may have been a mistake but as it turned out honesty was the best policy.That evening I was mortified when I overheard her telling her older sister what I said. Her sister was a new age feminist wanna be psychologist. I just knew this could lead to no good. I heard my wife nervously giggle several times and a lot of o.k.'s.After hanging up the phone my wife told me to give her an hour an come to bed. I could. She did and K. drove off. She, M. was in her early 20s, a student at the local University, white, about 5’5”, with short, boyish, black hair and dressed in pretty ordinary clothes: Tight jeans, loose top with a heavy-duty brown jacket with huge, fur-lined lapels. She wore high-heeled ankle-boots and surprisingly little make-up. A small handbag and a mobile phone was all her hand luggage. They chatted for a bit as K. drove down the whole length of Boris Avenue once more. After the usual.