Page 177 of Yearn
“Oh, baby.”
“Shit, Mommy. I can fuck you forever.” I thrust deep within her over and over.
“Good Boy.”
I reached up to cup her bouncing breasts, my fingers pinching and rolling her hardened nipples.
Her breath hitched, her body arching into my touch.
My cock’s rhythm became erratic, spurred by the desperate need to claim her completely, to mark her as my own. “Tell me how much you love this cock, Mommy.”
“I love it so much.”
“Say it again.”
She moaned, “Your cock, baby. . .it’s so damned perfect.”
I drove into her. “That’s right, Mommy, and this cock belongs to you.”
“Oh.”
I groaned, the urge to spill inside her nearly overwhelming, “and this pussy. . .this pussy is all mine.”
“Such a Good Boy,” she whimpered.
Those words made me feel like a goddamn king, I fucked into her harder and faster. The sounds of our bodies colliding reverberated around the room, joining the chorus of our groans and moans. The scent of our mingled arousal filled the air.
Her delicious pussy clenched and released around my cock, milking me.
Suddenly, the creaking sounded above us became louder, more persistent.
It wasn't hard to deduce that Scott was definitely leaving the bedroom.
But I didn’t give a fuck.
Come here, Scott. Let me show you how you should have fucked your wife.
The primal instinct within me was growing stronger, the sight of her beneath me was intoxicating.
"Oh, Mommy," I groaned, "Your pussy feels so fucking good."
She gasped and those tight walls clenched around my cock even more in response.
I could feel the tremors running through her body, each one sending electric jolts of pleasure shooting through my veins.
"Do you like that, Mommy? Do you like how my cock feels inside you?"
"Oh God, yes."
The thrill of her surrender damn near broke me.
"You're so fucking wet, Mommy. So tight.” I pumped my cock harder, deeper, loving the feel of her wet pussy. “So fucking perfect."
Her moans grew louder, filling the otherwise silent kitchen. She was so lost in the pleasure that she wasn’t even trying to keep quiet.
And she was meeting my thrusts, moving that pussy in sync with my cock.
I moved faster, each thrust causing the table beneath us to shake violently in sync with our desperate rhythm.
