Nope, it was great. Or maybe I was too drunk. I was just wound up when a healthy hot cock entered my ass.I've never expected anything from myself, but more. I was completely carried away. I could not imagine in a sober mind that I was capable of this. But I was intoxicated ...I moaned and wriggled like a dirty whore, but I enjoyed myself. I did not know that it was so cool.We finished together. when I could no longer tolerate.The next day I woke up with a sick head and such a thing on the penis.With thorn I came into reality after yesterday's drinking. And then I slowly began to return memory, which was yesterday. I remembered everything vaguely, but I still remembered.Got up. And where are my clothes?Instead of my things was T-shirt and shortsI had to go out like this. And then I had to cook breakfast.I did not even understand what I feel about this. In principle, there was not much to be ashamed of, except there was no one else here.And then he showed that it was necessary to dress. .I need you, desire you desperately...please…”. She obliged, surprised at the waver in his voice, and pulled down her panties as she kneeled over the worn bench, exposing all she had to offer. It was his fingers she felt first. Rough and gentle at the same time, parting her outer labia, his laboured breathing filling the room as he sunk one finger into her already wet cunt. “Fuck, Ash…” she heard, then the sound of the zipper on his jeans and the metal clink of his belt buckle hitting the floor. Soft lips, surprisingly soft, kissing and nuzzling the nape of her neck, his cock pressing against her ass. She pushed her hips back into him, her body betraying her sudden want and masking her confusion. She reached back, grasping his cock and guiding it to her most secret place. “Oh, fuck, Ash…” and then he was in her, forcing her pussy walls open, plunging into her, her breasts, still in their black lace bra, rubbing against the carpet of the bench. Her mind was a fuzzy mess now, swimming.
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