Looking Over Her Shoulder
I turned her over and ate her pussy while balanced over my face and continued to play with my hard-on.
The bitch reminded me her name again when we last spoke on the phone, but it typically flew out of my head the instant I invited her into my suite and shut the door. She was blonde, athletic, cute smile, but more importantly, she had prime tits and ass. That’s all a brother needs to get down with a slut; everything else is mere facade. She was married, though, but aren’t they all? Married hoes have got the best pussy—their pussy-whipped hubbies aren’t fucking them anymore, plus it takes less to whine and dine such bitches. It’s only good for a brother like me to test out their pussy to see how good the engine still runs. If I don’t do it, then who else would?
“Hope it wasn’t hard finding the hotel,” I asked.
“Not really,” she stopped to slip out of her jacket. “Way easier than finding an excuse to leave the house.”
“You man has no idea where you’d be?” I took her jacket from her and went and laid it on a sofa before leading her towards the bedroom.
“It’s a Sunday,” she discarded her handbag and slipped her stockinged feet out of her shoes. “He thinks I’m going to church.”
“I this outfit?” I chuckled, as I started helping her to undress. “Seems your man didn’t get a good look at you to know.”
“He hardly looks at me,” she replied, laughing while she slipped out of her blouse. “We barely talk—he does whatever he wants, and I do likewise with myself.”
She unzipped her skirt and let it fall to her ankles and then stood in her lace bra and thong panties. I unclasped her bra and she slipped it from her shoulders to the floor and then got on the bed. She positioned herself on her elbows and knees and twerked her gorgeously pale buttocks at me, inviting me to come over and investigate her goodies.
