Paul knelt there, his ass raised high in the air, his face pressed tight to the carpet, ostrich-like, helpless to hurry or delay the inevitable outcome, unable to do anything but whimper his pleasure into the acrylic pile.

Slowly, carefully, Joselyn pushed back as she gyrated, feeding her pussy the big cock in minute increments. She could feel the walls of her cunt being driven back by the rubbery bulb and the bulb's fat, jutting rim bumped over her clitoris, massaging it, sending flaming flickers of pure delight racing up her tummy, and over her tits. She spitted herself relentlessly, cork-screwing the ramrod deep into her pussy, pausing only when she could feel the broad root tearing at her sphincter, the hot, firm sack of his balls prodding between her asscheeks. Her vagina was filled from wall to wall with raging male meat and when Paul's cock throbbed, pushing out in all directions, threatening to split a seam in her channel, she, too, dropped her face to the carpet, clutching at it, clawing it.

"Ohhhhh," she murmured, actually chewing at the nap as she tipped her bottom forward, dragging his knob from the back of her womb.

Their buttocks came apart and bridging the gap between them was a ruddy, glistening shaft of muscle. She only hesitated an instant, then thrust his cock back inside her squirming her hips as she did so, teasing the wet sheath of her pussy down over his cruelly bent penis. The downward pressure on her cunt was incredible, not just because of the size of his cock, but because it wanted very much to return to its normal angle, to flip back up to his chest, a full 180 degrees. It felt like the monstrous thing was about to rip out the front of her stomach.