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The Storm on 14-02-2020 09:01:52

Alison’s defeat was George’s victory. Her left hand stayed on her opened inner thigh. Her wedding ring still glinted, unaffected by the terrible infidelity occurring beside them that rendered their symbolism completely meaningless: Her sacred vagina abandoning final attempts to avoid contact with his hard cock began small graceful undulations with it instead, traitorously exchanging delightful sensations with this black Muslim’s penis in betrayal of her once honored wedding vows.

George took cruel delight prodding her excited clitoris more with his cock and causing her pelvis to involuntarily respond with ever greater coital gestures. Her hips increasingly moved with the beauty of an exotic dancer.

“Does it feel good now, Alison?”

“Ooh.”

George’s cock and Alison’s pussy began speaking an identical language, saying similar things to each other. It was not the first time her body communicated with his like this.

Alison still stubbornly refused to verbally acknowledge the pleasurable feelings, yet her moans revealed them to George. She had taken some coaxing to bring her back around, even though the contact between their genitals had immediately restored George’s full erection before he even lost it.

“Oh, oh, ah, ooh.” She was pathetically cumming for him again.

“Oh, yeah. Does it feel good right there, Alison? Is that your special spot? Your wet made my cock real hard again. Does your husband’s cock get big and hard for you like this?”

Alison panted. Sex with her husband rarely lasted more than a minute and she never orgasmed from it. Now that she knew George this intimately, her husband seemed so small, weak and impotent to her.
“Oh, God, no, he doesn’t. He’s not like you. Ooh, stop it.”

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