feel those round apples

As she reared up over him, her hair draping around them like strands of dry wheat, her breasts bounced and flopped like low-hanging fruit.

His hands itched to feel those round apples. Squeezing them so the flesh would bulge through his fingers. She’d tied him down though, preventing him from doing little else except watching the way they wobbled with each bounce.

Bounce, slap, bounce, slap. She rode him like a brand new cowgirl on her very first bronco bull.

“Your member is like a giant soda can stretching my wet snatch so much.”

He felt the way she squeezed him. A cozy, wet sleeve on his ramrod cock.

“I’m going to come!” She tossed her head back and gave the Great War cry.

Her walls starting to ripple and then clamped down like a hard vice. It made the man juice bubble up in his balls and shoot up his member into her like an geyser.

“Aaah.” He bowed up like a bent bow string and howled his pleasure.

“Ooh,” she mumbled. “You’re like hot lava!”

When it was over, she collapsed on him, her head pillowed on his chest.

“Was it as good for you as it was for me?”

He blew a strand of her hair out of his mouth. “Better.”