The rider

The scent of sex in the air, strong pungent. Isobelle had gotten her rider, him. Her canvas of long toffee skin, lay upright against the red brick walls. Back firmly positioned against the slick leather of a rustic bike. Brown eyes wide with hunger, sometimes she reminded him of a leopard or a jungle cat, predatory and domineering. The silk was unbuttoned exposing the rise of succulent breasts, his mouth cocooned each bud refusing to be a starving man any longer. The throb of an erection like a sword pushed through the web of material.They moaned into each others ear drums, her nibbling on his lobe, before lowering some kisses to the nectar that would flow from an already prepared instrument. Reno Davis leaned over Selena Moore thrusting hard and deep, feeling her breath like a fan as he picked up momentum. The rhythm of two bodies, in sync, riding into oblivion. " Please," she pleaded as his thick arms lifted slender legs higher probing deeper, encompassing everything. For inhis hub of metals and spanners, inside her was another home  which he belonged too.


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