But he was under strain, she understood, and she could sympathize. She'd come onto him in the bar, come onto him in the street, and she'd had her hand in his crotch all the way from downtown to his trailer park lodgings. He'd almost come in her hand walking from the car to the trailer. He was a boy, only nineteen, and she doubted if he had a lot of experience under his belt. Boys his age tended to be on short fuses all the time. But, if she remembered her own teenage years, they also tended to be capable of almost nonstop fucking. Get hard, shoot the jizz, get hard again.

His hand touched her bare, fuzzy crotch, and one of his fingers nudged impatiently at the tight mouth of her twat. She moaned, and she felt the sweet wetness begin to flow around his prodding finger. She realized that he wasn't the only one on a short fuse. "Oh, do it!" she whispered, and he screwed energetically at her cunt. His knuckle kept bumping the base of her stiff, risen clit, and she moaned each time he tapped her there. She moaned and watched her vision blur delightfully. She was only inches from the cock she held in her trembling fist but she couldn't immediately find the strength and concentration to approach him with the lust simmering inside her skull.

"Like this?" he asked, charmingly boyish, his finger popping into her hole. She whined in glee as it began to corkscrew inside her snug sucking pussy, turning round and round, plunging deep and spiraling its way back again. Juice was leaking from the walls of her twat, juice that oozed from the splayed mouth of her sex, and she could smell it as it flowed into her surrounding fur. His finger jiggled inside her again and again, coaxing forth greater and greater washes of lubrication, and he used the stuff to grease his persistent passage in and out.

Joanne squeezed his prick and saw one large bubble of cum beginning to form in his deep cock-gash.