I’d taken some poundings before, but this guy could deliver. Pushing my legs over his shoulders, he began to pummel my ass.
“Fuuuuck,” he exhaled, plunging into my warm depths. I noticed a Rolex on his wrist-definitely not a fake. “Nine-so far,” I answered, gripping his muscular forearms as he pushed his thick, eight incher into me. “Yeah, no shit,” he laughed, withdrawing his finger and then rubbing his cock against my cunt. “I’m already prepped,” I informed him as he stuck a finger into me. “But I decided I liked fucking hot boys, like you, more than my wife.” “Used to be,” he answered, pulling off his CK briefs and unleashing his hard cock. “I get a lot of married guys this time of day.” He was yet another Wall Street guy looking to blow off some steam after a rough day at work-and I was happy to give up my hole to him. “That’s why I’m here,” he winked, kicking off his shoes and carefully draping his Armani suit jacket and Hugo Boss tie over the chair in the corner, followed by his pants and then his monogrammed dress shirt.
“You wanna fuck me?” I taunted, opening my legs wider. “Christ, that’s hot,” he exclaimed, taking me in, the setting sun illuminating my gym body. I was on the bed, legs spread, fingering my wet, puffy cunt when he walked through the door.
