The transition from the floor to the sofa was a blur of sweat and frantic skin. Mike didn't give her time to recover; he hauled her up, turning her around so she faced away from him.
He sat back on the cushions, and Petricia, driven by a hunger she no longer recognized as her own, climbed onto his lap in a reverse cowgirl. As she lowered herself onto his massive, pulsing cock, a sharp gasp escaped her lips.
"Oh... God, Mike!" she cried out, her voice a ragged melody of pleasure.
She began to bounce, her blonde ponytail whipping against her back, her large breasts swaying violently with every heavy lunge.
PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP!
'I should stop,' she thought, her hands clutching the back of the sofa for stability. 'This is too much...'
'The sheer disrespect of it... the way he just takes over my body like it is his.'
But the resistance was a lie. Every time he thrust upward, meeting her descent with a bruising force, her resolve crumbled.
