The Wilkerson InstituteChapter 5: Friday free porn video

I woke the next morning to the sounds of thumping and music. I stretched my arm out and was surprised to find an empty bed. Last night had been most energetic. I had thought Elyse would still be sleeping.

The music and thumping didn’t seem to be stopping, so I rolled out of the sack and staggered to the door. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I opened the door and stared at the sight before me. Elyse, dressed in an exercise outfit, was jumping and twitching in front of the television.

“Morning!” she called out brightly. “Coffee’s on the counter!” Then she turned back to the tube and continued her jumping and twitching.

I stumbled into the kitchen and poured a cup. I glanced at the TV again. Some sort of early morning exercise program, aerobics and calisthenics and such. I mumbled “Thanks,” and wandered back to the bedroom and on into the bath. God, I hate calisthenics!

The coffee was both good and hot. It woke me sufficiently to find the shower door. A long hot shower finished the job. I looked in the mirror and considered shaving. Fuck it! I put on a robe and wandered back to the living room with my empty coffee cup.

The workout show was starting to wind down, Elyse going through some slower routines. I went to the counter and poured myself some more coffee. “You want some coffee?” I asked.

“Yes, please!” panted out Elyse. “Some Danish there, too,” she announced.

I looked behind the counter and grabbed a platter of sweet rolls. Two quick trips had the Danish and coffee, with cups, plates, etc. on the dinette table. I sat down and watched Elyse finish up. A few minutes later she turned off the TV and trotted over, grabbing a towel off a chair as she came. She plopped down next to me and began to wipe the sweat off her arms and chest. I pushed her coffee cup over to her.

“You do this every day?” I asked.

Elyse took a sip of coffee before answering. “Yeah,” she gasped out. She took several deep breaths (Which did wonders for the exercise top!) and spoke again, a bit less breathlessly. “Aerobics every morning. And the Nautilus every afternoon.”

“Good Lord, why?” I asked.

The girl wiped her face and throat once more and threw the towel aside. Cupping her breasts with her hands, she jiggled them in my direction. “Cause otherwise, these will be bouncing on these.” She patted her knees.

I just laughed. “Shit! You look pretty damn good to me,” I told her.

“Thanks. But I still need to exercise if I want to look good to you.” She reached over and cut a Danish in half, gingerly taking a bite out of the half she had scooted onto her plate. By now I was mostly through one of my own.

“Don’t tell me you diet, too?”

“You bet,” she said around her small mouthful. Swallowing, she continued “But I’m not real crazy about it, either. Light breakfast, light lunch, then I can eat anything I want for dinner.” She flexed her arm muscles in a body builder’s pose. “It’s not calories so much as muscle tone.”

I snorted and grabbed the other half of her sweet roll and took a big bite out of it. I smiled as I downed it. These were pretty good. Pulling another to my plate, I said “New rules. No exercise Sundays.”

“But...”

“No exercise on Sundays. That’s the one day a week I get to sleep late and lay around. If you’re going to live with me, that’s non-negotiable.”

Elyse smiled and nodded. “Okay, if you say so. I thought you worked out, too? The girls said you did.”

“I’m no fanatic. And I won’t become one either. I jog or swim every two or three days. If God wanted me to jump up and down, he would have let me be born with springs on my feet.”

Elyse laughed. “You sound like someone who’s had to do too many jumping jacks.”

“Jumping jacks and squats and push-ups and sit-ups and you name it. In the Corps we called it the Daily Dozen and I really hated it.”

“So how come you run and swim now?” she asked.

I tapped my left knee. “Therapy. I got in the habit to build up my leg again after Iraq. Somehow it never took on the same negative connotations as the Daily Dozen.”

“Iraq? In the Middle East?”

“Yeah. I was a brand-new Second Lieutenant on my first assignment out of Quantico. About five seconds after I got there somebody tossed a mortar shell at us and I was hit. I didn’t see enough of Iraq to fill out on a postcard home.”

Elyse was silent for a moment, then took a closer look at my knee. Bending low, she could see the fine tracery of scars around the knee and calf below it. “You were hit by a mortar? I didn’t know you were a soldier.”

“I wasn’t. Soldiers are Army. I was a Marine.” There is a difference.

“So? Come on, tell me. Last night you told me you were an engineer and worked with computers,” she pressed.

“I am. I do. But many years ago, I was a Marine.” The look of confusion stayed on that pretty heart shaped face, so I continued, “Okay, follow me. I went to college on a ROT-Cee scholarship. The Corps paid my way, and I had to do a tour when I got out. My tour was in that lovely little garden spot in the Middle East. After about three seconds I got hit and was medicalled out. I bought a small piece of the farm and got a medical retirement and became an engineer and started my firm. Clear now?” I asked smiling.

She looked back at my knee. “You were shot?” she asked.

I shook my head, no. “Mortar fragments. Hurt like hell, too.”

She looked up at me. “Sorry I brought this up.”

“Ancient history, kid. Another fucking lifetime ago. Christ, this all happened when you were in diapers.”

“Does that bother you? I mean the difference in our ages? I mean, I’ve studied the history in class, but I don’t really know about it, if you know what I mean.”

“No,” I assured her, patting her knee. “Doesn’t bother me in the least. When the weather changes, I wish I didn’t know about it either,” I said flexing the knee. “What about you? It bother you I’m an old fart?”

“You’re not old!” she protested. I simply snorted and sipped my coffee. “No!” I just smiled at the twenty-year-old.

“Hey, listen!” she said grabbing my good knee. “You’re only as old as you feel. And last night you felt pretty young to me!” She was glaring at me now, as I began to laugh. “Besides,” she said, “I like older men.”

At this I just broke down. No young girl who looked like this one liked older men. But I had apparently hurt her feelings, and she turned her head away from me. I had glimpsed a tear coursing alongside that beautiful pert nose. I shut up and sat upright, pulling a tissue from a box on the table. Gently, I turned her head back to me and wiped the tears welling up in her eyes.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I’m not making fun of you. Come on, so I’m an asshole...”

“No, it’s just...” She grabbed a handful of tissues and turned away from me. Wiping her eyes, she also blew her nose, letting loose a real ripsnorter. After a couple of minutes, she turned back to face me, red-eyed. A wan smile was on her face. “Actually, I do like older guys.”

“I’m sorry I doubted you...”

“No, really, it’s all right.” She sniffled a touch more and blew her nose again, another moose call. Remind me never to take this girl out to dinner when she has a cold! “It’s just that that’s how I got here, sort of.”

“Uh ... you don’t have to tell...”

“No, you might as well know. I mean, I’m going to live with you, right?” I just nodded dumbly.

So, she told me her life story. In a nutshell, normal, suburban, Midwestern. Mom, Dad, big brother, the whole ball of wax. At least until she turned eleven. Her mom had died in a hit and run, and dad, a closet alcoholic, came out of the closet. “Danny, my big brother, he used to get the shit kicked out of him by Dad, just for being there. Danny started staying out, boozing and drugs. Dad would just beat him more. After a couple of years, Danny started running away. Cops would bring him back, but he’d keep leaving. Finally, they stopped bringing him back. We found out he’d died of an OD in Chicago,” she told me.

And I thought I had had problems with my parents! This was pretty sobering. But she wasn’t done, yet. Then her father started in on her, as a fresh punching bag. Her physique didn’t help matters. “I grew up pretty young. Or at least I grew out,” she said, cupping her tits again. “Not only was I the only girl in my grade school class to graduate wearing a bra, it was a C cup,” she said, smiling. “The boys were terrible, calling me names like Jugs and Tits. I started hanging around the older boys, the high school boys. Maybe they did just want to get in my pants, but they were at least polite about it, at least with me.”

Dad must have really loved that, I thought. And as she continued, it was obvious just how much he enjoyed his daughter boffing the older boys. Elyse left nothing out. She had left at fifteen and never looked back. I asked her if she had ever gone home or called. She simply shook her head. “I hope the sorry son of a bitch rots in hell. There’s a special place there for him, I’m sure.” Then she smiled. “Last time I saw him, he was bleeding like a stuck pig! I busted a bottle of Scotch over his head!” she said proudly. Shit! Remind me never to piss this lady off!

I was silent for a moment. Time to change the subject. I looked over her outfit. Running shoes and sweat socks, biking shorts, a sports bra, and a leotard over the shorts and bra. “I hate biker’s shorts.”

“You’d look great in them!” she protested.

“Whenever I see biker’s shorts, I always think of skinny Italian guys who shave their legs and are a little light in the loafers,” I commented.

Elyse laughed delightedly. “Trust me, sweetie. You’re definitely not light in the loafers.”

I laughed too. “Just do me a favor. Eighty-six the biking shorts. Hot pants only.”

“Uh, well...”

“Problem?”

Elyse grimaced. “Uh, well, I’m, uh, oh Christ, I’m kinda fuzzy,” she blurted out.

“So, shave,” I said.

“I always knick myself. Do you know how painful that can be?”

Well, no not really. “I never nick myself shaving. I’ll volunteer.”

“Ever shaved your balls?” she asked. I looked horrified at her. “Now you know what a girl has to go through.” She pondered my volunteering. “Ever shaved a girl before?”

“Yeah, actually, I have,” I told her.

Elyse shrugged. “Okay, you’re on. Anything else about my outfit?”

“Well, as long as you asked. What’s with the bra?”

“Prevents rug burns,” she said jiggling her breasts at me again. This time we both laughed. Reaching up with both hands, she grabbed the straps to the leotard and the bra and pulled them down. Pushing the outfit to her waist, she faced me topless. “Better?”

“Much,” I said. Last night’s snap judgment was right on. These were really great tits! My cock stirred, and I could feel it pushing against my robe. Elyse must have noticed also. She slid off her chair and knelt before me on the floor. Opening my bathrobe, she watched my cock inflate and point upwards.

“That really is a nice cock. Did I tell you that last night? Well, it really is!” She reached out and fondled my nuts. “It’s bigger than average, but not too big, you know. I mean, it really fills a girl up, but it’s not too big to suck on.” Jesus! I would have blushed if all my blood hadn’t rushed to my groin. It throbbed and twitched in her hands. “I know!” she said brightly. “Between your big dick and my big tits, I bet I can give you a really great titfuck!” She crawled forward between my legs.

Pressing against me, she grabbed her tits and wrapped them around the sides of my erection. She pressed them in, hard, around my cock and began to slowly move them up and down. I stared downwards as my dick began to appear and disappear in the tit tunnel she had formed. Oh, Lord, the friction was just unreal! Groaning, I leaned back into the chair to watch.

For her next trick, Elyse leaned her head down and began to kiss and lick my cockhead whenever it surfaced. She began to drool on the tip, her saliva running down the sides and coating the insides of her tits. My cock felt like it was back in her hot and tight pussy, the wetness making me even harder. Her nipples were huge and distended, dark and red and as engorged as my cock. I leaned forward and put my fingers on them, rolling and tweaking them between thumbs and forefingers. Now it was her turn to moan.

I continued my nipple massage as Elyse became more and more distracted. She stopped licking my cock tip and her head went back, her eyes closed, and her face deeply flushed. If anything, she began to move even faster, bouncing her tits up and down around my trapped manhood. Oh, was this good! Finally, neither of us could stand anymore. Moaning and groaning loudly, we both came, my jism spurting upwards from between the valley they were buried in, splashing against her neck and throat. She pumped me dry, as her new pearl necklace dripped down onto her massive mammaries.

Then, drained, I sagged back in my seat and Elyse sat back on her heels. Smiling, she looked down at the droplets on her tits. Standing slowly, she began to wipe the cum off with the fingers of one hand and lick them clean. “I think I need a shower,” she said. “Wanna wash my back?”

I considered our differing heights and the low probability of her showering in high heels. “Give a guy a chance, hun. Maybe later.”

She shrugged her shoulders and pushed her leotards and shorts down to mid-thigh. “You’re sure?” she taunted me.

Oh, so tempting! “Uh ... no, but I’ll give you that shave when you get out, if you want?”

“It’s a deal. Be out in a jiffy,” she said and skipped into the bath.

Wrapping my robe around me, I followed her. I pulled out my razor and shaving cream and pulled a beard trimmer out of the medicine cabinet. I put a new blade in the razor, then sat on the vanity stool to wait. Then I got up and put my old blade back in. Wetting my face, I lathered up and started shaving. I was about half done when I heard the water being turned off and Elyse stepped out.

“Dry off everywhere,” I told her.

“Everywhere?” she asked.

“Remember, I’m a professional.”

“A professional, huh?” she commented, as I watched her out of the corner of one eye. “You got paid?”

Scraping the remaining foam from my face, I turned towards her. Taking her by the hips, I pushed her back against the counter and lifted her up between the sinks. “Well, let’s just say I’ve had some experience at this.” I pulled the vanity stool in front of her and sat down on it, face to face with the object of my desire. “Now, pull your legs up and spread them apart ... Yes, that’s right.” I grabbed the beard trimmer and turned it on.

“So, how’d you get all this experience?” she asked.

“My second wife,” I said, beginning to trim her pubis. Thick, dark curls began to fall to the floor. “She liked me to shave her once a month. Er, after, so to speak.” I concentrated on the target.

“So, what happened to her?” she asked, staring down at me between her breasts. “Or is she still around?”

“Oh, she’s still around. Just not married to me. Let’s just say that while she liked me to trim the weeds, she’d let almost anybody plant the seed, so to say.”

“Really?” she giggled. “What, you catch somebody else farming?”

“In a manner of speaking. I started feeling a bit poorly and went to the doctor. Turned out she had given me a plant disease. Curable, though.” I finished the trim and pushed the stool back. Standing, I took her hand and helped her down. Her pussy hair was now trimmed short but not quite neatly.

“A root disease?” she giggled.

“You could say that. Now back into the shower. Wash off any hair, but this time don’t dry everything off.” I pushed her into the shower. She looked quizzically at me but complied.

The secret of a good shave is proper preparation. For the initial trim, the site must be dry, but for the shave, wet and supple is the key. If I get a better shave after showering, why wouldn’t a lady. I switched blades again. Elyse popped out of the shower moments later, clean and ready to go. After she dried everything but her cunt off, I positioned her as before and sat back down. A thin coat of foam (I love those shaving cream commercials! Any guy who actually puts an inch of shaving cream on their face is a guy just itching to slit his throat.) and I applied my razor to her skin.

Elyse stared down at me as I worked, muttering threats and imprecations in the event of a nick. Despite my assurances that I had never nicked myself with this razor (triple tracks, rolling head!) she even made comments about neutering me! I kept the flesh taut by carefully pulling her lips out. The new blade cut smoothly through the softened hairs, and I easily did her pussy, all the way down the crack of her ass.

I tossed my razor into the sink and grabbed a hand towel. Wiping off any remaining foam, I examined my handiwork. Bald, her pussy was gorgeous! Her inner lips were quite prominent, protruding from her outer lips slightly. Her clitoris, ruby red, was easily visible. “Perfect! Another first class job!”

Elyse peered downwards. “Wow! It really does look good!” She moved to climb down, but I stopped her.

“Final step in the procedure. Application of moisturizer,” I said. Then I pushed her thighs back apart. Spreading her labia apart with my fingers, I buried my face in her moist crotch. My ex had always enjoyed this part of the shave, and I figured Elyse would, too. I wasn’t mistaken. My tongue frantically began probing her pussy and licking her wet and throbbing clit, as the shaved girl began to moan and twitch equally frantically. I refused her pleas and entreaties to stop and fuck her until after I had gotten her off twice.

Finally, tongue dead tired, I pushed myself back and Elyse climbed down. She rubbed her ass, where it had been on the hard counter, for a moment, then grabbed my hand. “Come on! I really need a fuck! Now!” she exclaimed, pulling me towards the bedroom.

I pulled loose. “In a moment,” I said and pushed her gently towards the door. I relieved my bladder, then put my face under the water running in the sink. Elyse had really gotten juicy on her second orgasm. I toweled my face off and took off my robe. Elyse was waiting for me on the bed, her legs drawn up and apart, all ten fingers kneading her bald cunt. I climbed up, on, and in.

Our midmorning workout was quite vigorous. Elyse was most profuse in her thanks and endeavored to make sure I knew. She was most successful, and we both dropped to sleep with very satisfied smiles on our faces.

I awoke to the feel of a warm breeze on my body and warm sunlight on my face. I lay there like this for a few moments, then slowly lifted my eyelids. I was facing the French doors leading to the patio, and the first sight I saw was truly inspirational. Elyse was standing in the open doorway, her back to me, legs spread wide, arms stretched up and touching the spread doors, as naked as the day she was born. I propped myself up on one arm and watched, enchanted, as the breeze wafted through her long flowing hair. My, but her small frame really carried those curves nicely!

The beauty must have sensed my staring because she turned her head and looked back over her shoulder. “What are you looking at?” she asked, smiling.

“Oh, just what a beautiful day it is. You know, the birds, the bees, that sort of thing.”

“Bullshit,” she said with a big grin. It was obvious I was staring at her ass. “Hungry?”

“Yeah! You’ve depleted all my vital bodily fluids,” I said, smiling back at her. “The dining room? Or room service?”

Elyse thought for a second, then looking back outside for a second, turned to face me with a mischievous grin. She closed the patio doors and began picking her clothes up off the floor. She pulled on the blue dress from last night and zipped up the back, then grabbed a cup and stuffed her tits down into it. She lifted and dropped the front several times to adjust herself. I had wondered how she had ever fit into the thing. She looked as good now as the night before. I could feel things stirring under the covers.

“Well?” I asked.

Elyse skipped around in bare feet for a few moments more, stuffing her gym clothes and shoes and whatnot into a gym bag from the closet. It occurred to me that Jeanine must have brought it by while we were at dinner last night. How efficient. I would have to tell Jack about her when we got back. Maybe Teresa’s contract was running out.

“Meet me downstairs in front of the main entrance in an hour,” she said.

“Huh?”

“The main entrance. In an hour. Okay?”

“But...”

“Trust me,” she said. She trotted over and gave me a quick kiss, then hopped back before I could grab her and pull that dress off again. I was hard as a rock again. “One hour.” And she was out the front door.

I collapsed back into the bed, groaning. What the fuck did she have in mind? After about fifteen minutes, according to Mickey, I swung my legs over the side of the giant bed and sat up. I went into the bathroom and repeated my morning ritual, although I didn’t shave a second time. But what to wear?

The answer came to me when I looked out the French doors. Over a ridge, I knew was Cancun. She wanted to meet me out front, where the limos parked. I had seen several driving guests and young ladies into town. Ergo, we were going into town for lunch. I dressed appropriately, in slacks and dress shirt and blazer. No tie or socks, but dress loafers. I made it to the main entrance with a couple of minutes to spare.

Elyse wasn’t there yet, and no limo was pulled up, engine idling. I wasn’t too surprised that she had left earlier once I thought about it. There was no way she would have enough clothes in the room or bag for several days, even if stockings and nighties were in stock. So, she had to go back to the dorm occasionally, to change, but where was she? And the limo?

I was still standing there, wondering, when I heard this crazy beeping coming up behind me. I turned to see Elyse careening up a pathway behind the wheel of a golf cart, smiling and waving a hand, pounding the steering wheel with the other. With each pound, a high-pitched BEEP! sounded. She roared, if roared is the right word for an electric golf cart, to a halt in front of me.

“Hop in!” she called out.

“What?” I stammered out.

“Hop in! Come on! Let’s go! I’m hungry.”

“But...”

“Just get in,” she told me, beeping the horn in emphasis.

What the hell? I clambered on board. Before I was even firmly seated, Elyse had floored the accelerator and we were off and running. I slammed down into the seat and gave her a dirty look, which she shrugged off with a laugh. “Women drivers,” I muttered.

Elyse must have heard me, because she let out a shriek of laughter and went nuts with the golf cart. She kept the golf cart at full tilt (which admittedly was maybe a fast jog) and began to swerve all over the place. Off the path, onto the jogging path, around startled girls, laughing and waving at everyone we almost ran over. I hung on for dear life as we made one radical turn out of the path of another golf cart driven by an older gentleman, with a pair of stunning redheads in bikinis. The redheads laughed and waved back, as the white-haired man shook his fist and yelled. I tried to become invisible.

Finally, driving down a side path down a hillside, Elyse slowed slightly and straightened out. “Any other comments?” she asked.

“Christ, no!” I said. “You’re an excellent driver. I especially liked the slalom down the jogging path. I would have never thought some of those girls could move so fast.”

Elyse began laughing again, and swerved madly for a second, just to shake me up. Now I had a chance to really look her over. My eyes had been covered before. She had changed into a long black halter top dress, with bright red and pink print flowers on it. It was a wrap dress, tied at the waist, showing a generous amount of leg and cleavage, and was quite becoming. I suspected pantyhose or stockings, which was confirmed by a glance at her high-heeled sandals. She kept the sun off her face with a huge floppy straw hat that looked as if it was going to blow off in the wind of our passage.

“So where are we going? And what about lunch?” I continued.

“We’re going on a picnic,” she told me.

“A picnic?”

“A picnic. You know, sandwiches, blankets, ants. Don’t tell me you’ve never gone on a picnic before?”

“Of course, I’ve been on a picnic before,” I said peevishly. “But where’s the food?”

Elyse half turned around and patted the deck behind us. I grabbed the wheel to keep us on the path. She simply asked if I wanted to try for a giant slalom. In another minute she reached the end of the path and stopped. “Get the gate, willya?” she commanded, pointing at a small gate in the hedge we were next to.

I climbed out and opened the gate wide. I continued to stand there as she whirred her way through and kept on going. I stared as she drove to the middle of an acre sized glade and stopped. Feeling like an idiot, I closed the gate and walked over to the golf cart where Elyse had climbed out. “Very funny,” I said. “Who writes your material?”

Elyse simply laughed and threw open the deck. “That’ll teach you!” she laughed.

“I think you need a good spanking,” I told her, reaching for her. Nimbly, she whirled out of grasp. I began to chase her around the golf cart, threatening punishments as she shrieked in laughter. After a couple of circuits, which she really couldn’t do in heels, I grabbed her around the waist and turned her to face me. Backing her against the golf cart, I pressed against her, spreading her legs with mine and poking my erection into her belly. “I think you need some punishment.”

“Is that what you call it?” she said smiling. Then she braced against the golf cart and pushed me away. Twirling around, she reached into the open storage area under the deck. As I turned her back towards me, she pushed a blanket into my face. “Lunch first, then dessert.” She laughed and pushed me backwards. Surprised, I tripped on a root and fell backwards, falling flat on my ass heavily. Elyse damn near died of convulsions from laughing at me.

There is no justice. I spread the blanket.

Three quarters of the way through, a second blanket landed next to me. I spread this one on top of the first and turned back to the golf cart. Elyse passed me two large wicker baskets and knelt on the blanket. She daintily tucked the dress under her legs as I opened the hampers.

To be honest, I was fairly impressed. Aside from the golf cart, the whole thing reminded me of one of those pictures out of Home Beautiful or House and Garden. Very chic. The first hamper held a load of foods, the second was a cleverly disguised cooler containing several bottles of chilled wine. A Coleman cooler just wouldn’t do for Home Beautiful or House and Garden. We laid out the food, and Elyse began to serve me.

The food was excellent, all cold or room temperature. We had a cool salad, a delicious pate, some crab in flaky puff pastry, crusty French bread, imported cheeses, fried chicken. You name it, it was in that hamper. Even long-stemmed crystal for the wine, although this wasn’t too practical. The first time I tried to set mine down, it tilted over and spilled into the grass. I grinned ruefully as Elyse giggled.

Finally, absolutely stuffed, dawdling over strawberries and whipped cream, I lay back and propped myself up on one arm. “That, my dear, was absolutely scrumptious.” I gazed over at her. She had shifted around a bit during lunch and her dress had shifted open slightly. I had an excellent view at her legs tucked under her. Stockings, not pantyhose, but long stockings that topped out in lacy bands just below her crotch. Her labia were slightly parted, and her clitoris and tunnel were moist and pink. Elyse saw where I was gazing and blushed and began to tug her dress closed again. I reached out with my free hand and stopped her, parting it slightly more, and rested my hand on her thigh. We continued chatting for a few minutes more, as I continued to gaze and began to idly rub her inner thigh.

“So. How does it feel? Any irritation? Knicks?” I asked.

“Uh, no, no. Just fine. Feels a little cool in the breeze at times.”

I smiled. “You should learn to cross your legs in public.” I commented, pushing them slightly further apart.

“Oh, really,” she said smiling.

“Oh, yes,” I responded. “My ex, the second, always said the same whenever she was wearing a miniskirt.” I reached further north and began to gently draw circles with my fingertips around her puffy pudenda. “Ready for dessert, yet?” I asked.

A slight shudder went through the girl’s body. Her face flushed under the oversized hat, a flush that continued down to her abundant cleavage. “Ummm...,” she murmured, as I began to gently flick and rub her clitoris. “Sounds delicious.”

Elyse moved closer to me, her dress spreading behind her. As my fingers began to probe her cunt, she silently undid my belt and zipper. I arched my back to allow her to pull my pants halfway down my thighs, then she began to gently stroke my dick, pulling the skin up and around the head. My cock had never really deflated since our chase around the golf cart, and now was in full glory, throbbing and twitching, the big head purple and filled with blood. In seconds we were both moaning in pleasure. “Climb on top,” I whispered.