"Sir, please forgive me. I made such a mess on you. Don't move, I'll go get something to wash you off. Just hold still, I'll be right back. Then I can measure your hips and you will be ready to go," she said as she headed for the door. He laid his head back down, closed his eyes, to wait for her return. He imagined her bringing back a wet, warm washcloth and washing his cock. He could feel her hand lift his cock to wash around it, wash the shaft, and wash his balls. She might even wash his ass. Now, he hoped her juice had dripped that far. He felt it leak down his shaft, and his balls as she got off him. He was laying there remembering her hips as they moved in that tight black mini skirt. Her breasts were huge as they struggled to pop the one button that was straining to hold her blouse together. That tight red blouse that covered just above her nipples, moved as her breasts swayed as she sat on his cock and fucked him. That pussy showing through her sheer black panty hose as she. “Richard, you're always gone so long... I'm sorry.. I just...” She was pleading, but his stoney expression silenced her. There was nothing but the sound of the lawnmower next door as he knocked her, un-gently, to the floor. Inside his pants his cock was straining, harder than it had ever been before to see her sprawled like a rag-doll, her body limp and pliant and juicy from the orgasm she'd had. He unzipped himself, and his cock sprang free, thick and angry red. Delia's eyes opened wider. Richard crouched over her prone form like a lion, taking in the mingled scent of her and the scent of the other man that clung to her skin. He pinned her, kneeling over her with his legs on either side, cock above her face and blocking her vision. Her tongue flicked over her lips nervously. “Open,” he commanded, one word. Her lips parted obediently and in he plunged, sinking himself to the back of her throat without waiting for the muscles of her jaw to relax in response to this sudden demand on.
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