Amy is long and lean, with shoulder-length auburn hair straight and shiny. Her skin is baby soft and golden. Bright red toenails decorate her high-arched feet, and contrast with her blue green eyes. She giggled, nervously, and rose from her chair, her battery-powered toy in hand. Her breasts swayed, gently, as she walked up to me. She got down on the carpet and lay back, in front of me. Gazing, longingly, at my veined meat, she spoke to it, “Stand over me. I want to watch your balls move.”
I straddled her, above her face, turned toward her feet and watched her busy hands. With each slow stroke of my cock, my balls slid lazily in their smooth sac. With that visual stimulus, Amy was quick to get off. The vibrator was pressed, tightly, against her clit and her legs went rigid and shook as she made herself cum in front of the admiring girls. I tried not to speed up the manual rhythm on my piston, but I subconsciously met each one of her thrusts with one of my own. It was all I could do to keep from boiling over. As her orgasms subsided, I put my hands behind my neck and just moved my hips, playing “air drum” with my stick.
Amy cooled down, rubbing her hands all over her body, feeling her hardened breasts, catching her breath. The women crooned with approval. Slowly, Amy rose up and returned to her seat, and picked up the next hand of cards.