On her left she could see the Washington Crossing Inn, an old but beautiful restaurant with a huge garden. Once in a while they went there with friend... to see a cover band playing songs from the time that they were happy. She turned her head to the right and watched cars crawl over the small Washington Crossing Bridge. The bridge was so small that both cars had to pull in their mirrors to pass each other without scratching their cars. Cynthia hated to cross that bridge and every time she. “No, not like this, Jackson,” she explained, being her tutoring self. “Let me handle this.”She told me to lie on my back. Then she straddled over me and squatted over my lap. With her hand, she guided the tip of my cock to her entrance. Slowly, she sat down on it, letting me feel how the slippery, fleshy walls made way for my shaft to hug it tightly. Once all the way down, she didn't move for a while, allowing me to adjust to the sensation of her warm pussy clenching around my entire penis.“Now. More

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