He watched her keenly, as she sat on him, wiggling the big thing right deep into her. She did is so softly, wetting every inch deeper and with a gentle thud, she sat right across him. He was the thug of the feared streets, she a preachers kid: a concussion of guilty and pleasure, two different worlds connected as one. "Say x" said the teacher, dressed it a tight blouse exposing her set of breasts wanting to break free from the cages of her bra.
His veins were all bulging up...the moment too intense,the thing he so fantasized about now playing out in reality. He did as asked, repeated her words as told, "sex." if he pleased his music teacher, maybe she would let him play the piano. Maybe she would let her play with her piano, a moist Pussy he had been craving for.
And now she flipped her long hair all black with and fragrance of grape seed oil hit his nose...he tried to breathe slow...but his manhood grew even more...firmly he had his grip on her bossoms her skin was wet and her nipplea were alert ...he kissed her neck real slow as she went all zomba on his magic stick...wining and moaning like her devils were let loose. She oozed of her inner fountain waters as with every stroke he dug deep into her walls...slowly slowly then faster and faster ...thrusts and curses of pleasure and her orgasm counter hit...she was the perfect treasure for such a cold night.