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He didn’t need to tell her what he wanted, Kendra raised dark eyes to his. She remembers thinking how the lock of displaced hair spilling across his forehead gave him a boyish look before he buried himself into her in one quick thrust. Twin cries rang out. Micheal leaned forward, his forehead against hers, both of them panting. "Ah Christ Kendra"Hot breath tickled her cheek, his voice harsh, his British accent more clipped than usual. The choice of words a clear indication of how far gone he was, suddenly finding himself surrounded by her slick warmth enough to make him forget himself.She nodded, wrists straining against his viselike grip as she struggled not to move, her own ragged breath kissing his face. He let go of her hands and they both groaned as she lowered them, fingers delving into his hair, the subtle shift of her body against his causing enough friction to spark a second wave of desire. Micheal kicked his trousers out of the way and wrapped one arm around her. "Here you go. Now tell me what happened?"Lucinda didn't want to tell her everything. She couldn't. "He lied to me about something. He wasn't honest! I should have known not to trust him, I was going to fast!" You didn't know. You fell for him too quick, but you only listened to your heart."Lucinda sipped her tea and looked straight ahead. "Joy, I fell for him." What did he lie to you about?"Lucinda took a deep breath. "His age," she said quickly."He's not underage is he?" No. He's 18. He's only 18!"Joy laughed. "Is that it? Lucinda you shouldn't worry about that." I know... but..." But nothing. You need to call him tonight and tell him that you forgive him and that you love him. I hate seeing you this way."Lucinda nodded. "No I need some time to cool off. I can't do this tonight." Fine, then you can stay here for as long as you need to. Hell I could use some company around here anyway."Lucinda smiled weakly. "Thank you."Jake had called Lucinda at home, at work and had even stopped by.
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I knew that if she unleashed those twin balloons from beneath her jersey that I’d better watch out or I’d have bruises on my face. I made a mental note to include hand signals in my safety regimen because if I were smothered by those breasts I would not be able to voice it. She caught my eye and we connected. As she rounded a turn I read the name on the back of her shirt — …busther. What? A typo on the jersey. Shouldn’t that have been buster? But the it hit me — it wasn’t a typo it was a nickname — Bust Her. It was a play on those enormous tits and the fact that she was one of the toughest chicks out there. She gave shoulder and hip checks that belonged in the NHL. I hoped that I could withstand her onslaught. After the match I waited outside. We didn’t have a chance to talk at all and all I had was a hope that she read my signals. I waited outside, fingering my cock through a hole in my pocket. I wanted to give a good impression..

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