London. And ancient doorway in a main avenue. The needed darkness.
The hotness and the mastery of the man that I love. Jacob Frye!
“Jacob! I have only ten minutes!”
“Don’t worry, honey! Your ten minutes will be enough!”
“Really? Don’t you think you are overestimating yourself?”
His cheeky smirk shows me that I was wrong while his voluptuous hands slip into my pants, teasing my clit.
“What did you said, love? Not enough? And your wetness? My hands are totally moistened!”
“Jacob! I can’t wait! Take me! Now!”
At your service, my Lady!“
So he sinks into me, completely. One only thrust. One deep, intense, hot, impetuous thrust. I start burn like an ardent ember and he feeds my dep desire with his hotness. Fast. Always faster. Till the world all around us loses his outlines and my mind finds the oblivion in his deep and wild groan. Then his fingers on my clit make me come, loosing completely my senses and moaning his beloved name.
Nine minutes for going till the heaven.
One minute again for enjoy our last hug and an unforgettable kiss.
Then I come back to the normality of my silly life.
Because the Victorian conventions don’t allow our love.
But we are stronger than them. We will win!