Having contented himself that he had done right by the Swede’s magnificent tits, Peter focused all his attention on her tight, young quim. As he entered her, she responded by crossing her legs behind his back, creating a kind of enclosure in which he must operate. Not that he needed much direction, his energies being entirely consumed in bringing her once more to orgasm.
‘One day I will watch my wife eating you out on this table,’ he said, pretty confident of how he could bring her to the tipping point again.
‘Fuck me harder!’ came her reply, a common refrain by now, but still music to Peter’s ears.
‘I want to make you forget Ulf,’ he said, achieving just the opposite.
‘You are much bigger than him,’ said Petsi, whether honestly or in an effort to optimise his performance, we will never know.
‘Size isn’t everything,’ said Peter modestly.
‘But it is,’ said Petsi, the first waves of orgasm building inside her. ‘Fuck me deep!’
Peter did all he could to accommodate her request, accelerating his motion and using his thigh muscles to get his weapon as deep inside her as it would go. The moment he sensed her tensions being released, he eased off a tad and followed suit, exultant in the explosion that ripped through his body. Petsi received all he had to give her and squeezed out even more – reserves he didn’t know he even possessed.
They ate supper together and then fell asleep in each other’s arms in the bed where they had made love: two bodies beating with a single heartbeat.
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