But there was the sturdy beat of his hips against hers. She felt the pound and mash of his pubic bone against her straining, pulsing clit. She felt the long, stuffing run of his prick into her body, the withdrawal of it, the coiling of his hips for the next sliding run, and the way her pussy opened and accepted and hungered for more and more!

She felt her emotions climbing higher and higher toward that blinding peak. She felt the smoothness of her circling hips become jerky and quick with passion.

She knew suddenly that Logan had been right-that she had buried herself in some kind of hole, where it had been safe and secure with just the memories of Carl there.

But now she was coming out of it, faster and faster, with each pumping thrust of his cock, as if it were the handle of some kind of jack that he pumped up and down, lifting her inch by gasping inch.

"Oh! Oh, Logan!" she cried sharply.

"Yeah, baby, do it! Come! God, your pussy's driving me wild! Come, Chris! Let it all go!"

"Yes!" she cried, shuddering, gasping for breath, clinging to him, crossing over that line of no return. "Ohhhhhh, Yes!"

She squeaked thinly. She wanted to scream. If it had been Carl fucking her, she would have screamed. She would have glued her mouth to his and thrashed shamelessly, and she would have held back nothing of herself.

But he wasn't Carl. She couldn't forget that. She couldn't let herself go completely.

She compressed her lips and moaned in the back of her throat and lifted the last inch. She felt her pussy open wide and then clamp down around his cock and shudder with violent pulsations of a sturdy, pounding orgasm that swept all through her supple body.

"Eeee!" she cried tightly, pulling his head into the hollow of her shoulder, quivering mightily against him.