"No! No!" she gasped. She rolled her head from side to side. "Please! Please don't! I don't want to."
"The hell you don't," he laughed, looking up from her pussy with his eyes sparkling in amusement. "Your nipples have been hard as rocks since I first got my hands on them. Your pussy's flooding juice all over, getting greased up for my prick. The hell you don't want to be fucked. Shit! This cunt is almost begging me out loud."
He went after her more frantically. His mouth damped over her cunt, sucking deeply. His tongue fucked into the pussy and drove her clit into spasms of delight. He nibbled tauntingly on her cunt-lips, then sucked her again even more passionately. Lee clamped his mouth tightly over her crotch and began to blow and suck alternately into her pussy. The pressure built to insane proportions inside her. Sheri gasped loudly, flailing about the bed in a vain attempt to get her body under control.
She should never have come. She certainly should never have let Marianne talk her into going out on the town before they had even grabbed dinner. Perhaps more than anything else, she should never have started drinking Hurricanes in the bar on St. Peter's Street, not even if they were supposed to be world-famous. Maybe then she would have been on guard and not let herself be picked up along with Marianne. Oh, the boys were nice enough. Lee and Tim had been standing behind them as they stood in the crisp evening air along Canal Street watching the parade and leaping about trying to catch the doubloons thrown from the floats. The boys offered them their jackets and took over the task of escorting the girls for the rest of the evening. At least Lee hadn't tiled to escort her directly to bed, as had Tim with her brunette companion.