"Come on, John." Then she heard the jingling sound. She propped herself up on one elbow to see what it was. It took her a moment to figure out what it...was, and she wished she hadn't. The jingling was coming from the rings and buckles hanging from this mass of black leather and straps. Then she re-considered. Part of what had turned her on so much was the feeling of helplessness, kind of like being the damsel in distress. She recalled how much she enjoyed it when the boys in her neighborhood. Who could have been at the door, she wondered. The mailman, a neighbor, or the cute young man who mowed her lawn? Then she thought again, maybe it was Ryan’s wife. None of these options boded well for her. Becky felt Ryan’s cum slowly run down her thighs. Her pussy ached from the intense fucking she received but she felt alive even if she did feel guilty from letting another man fuck her. What would her husband think? What would her neighbors think if they could see her now? She heard the. More

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