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It was true. You could hear small sounds from within his body and feel each thrust of his hips. The powerful aroma of their bodies flooded your senses. You had a close up view of his shaft, coated with her thin, white cream. It was like wax dripping down a burning candle. Her sex would slide down his stiff pole, then the outer lips would clutch at him as she rose back up. I felt the familiar stirring in my loins. Mandy winked at me, pulling me to her lips and kissing me hard. Her teasing tongue rolled over the roof of my mouth. She lifted up and off of Paul. His trembling shaft hung there, reaching out to return to the warm confines of pleasure. The pleasure that was suddenly ripped away from him. She petted your head, whispering to you, "Feel him, taste him. He needs more." I became harder as I watched you. As if in a trance, you shifted your head over to his straining shaft. You seemed to forget our presence, as your lips made first contact with the sticky helmet of his cock. You. Uh...uh...always knew you were hot Peter. I've been wet so many times when you were sitting next to me in the lunch room. I just couldn't take it anymore." She groaned and I felt her cunt clench on my cock. She looked at her watch. "Ten minutes...just oh OH Ten...oh nine until the bell rings...finish...oh fuck...oh...fuck finish! NOW!"I shot deep up into this petite woman who was sprawled across the teacher's lounge dining table. It was risky as hell, but the second time we both admitted to being fans of quickies and danger. I lifted her black panties that were inches below where my cock had been slamming into her. I wrapped the thin filmy material around my shaft and wiped the cunt juice and jizz from it.I walked to the sink, cock semi-hard and rainbowing down as I pulled three papers towels, wetting them in the stream. I scrubbed the rest of the scent and jizz from my shaft, tucked my cock into my shorts, pulled my pants up from just below my ass, zipped up, buckled up, straightened.
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’ ‘Yes, kitchen and bathrooms. The goals are no bugs, no smell and not to be overrun by mold, so I clean those. The rest of the house is in, what you would call, disorder, but I know where everything is.’ ‘You really are Peter Pan. And you might be here for selfish reasons but I certainly am not.’ ‘Why are you here?’ I ask seriously. She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t break eye contact or change the subject. ‘It has to do with your boyfriend?’ I prompt. ‘He’s my fiancé. We’ll be married in three weeks.’ This bit of news is surprisingly unwelcome. ‘Alright. So this is a last fling?’ ‘No, certainly not,’ My missing the mark angers her, while this asinine guessing game is angering me. ‘So your going to have more flings after you’re married?’ ‘No, we are nothing, not even a fling. This is not a fling.’ She replies like it’s the pivotal argument in a murder trial. ‘Is this some kind of kinky fetish?’ I’m starting to enjoy this. ‘NO!’ She yells angrily. ‘Does he want to watch us? Maybe.

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