She simply stood before the doorway and stared at the man. Inwardly, she felt as if her jaw dropped to the floor. Gone were the stilted, formally dres...ed dandy of the night before and the hesitant, awkward gentleman of earlier this afternoon; in their place stood a man, confident, rugged, sensual. The man wore a dark brown cloak with the hood thrown back over his shoulders hanging down his back. Beneath the cloak, she spied a ruffled white poet's shirt that hung open to his waist and exposed. ‘Harder! Clay, do it faster, harder, deeper. Fuck me and make me feel it!’ she gasped out to him. His huge, bl**d-engorged member began to drive deeper and longer into her, its breadth pulling the soft, ragged edge of her furrow out with it on each outstroke, revealing the moist, pink lining of her pussy, then, on the plunging instroke, all of it was rammed back into her again. The tiny Oriental wife could feel the giant staff of him rampaging into her generating her desire, and she could. More

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