her patience and understanding. her virtue of love that fuses and discombobulates the togetherness of a forbidden force of nature and reality she yearns. two bodies, one soul ridden with dire consequences of togetherness; but still they seek to make...
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"A night you ain't gon' forget.. Ion know if you ready for that babygirl," Maurice taunted maliciously; his voice booming through the tension of the tightening atmosphere as the breathy coos of the weak amplified into the former silence of what had become of it so long ago. Her eagerness struck him silly, wooed with how quickly she'd submitted and succumbed to the temptation of his touch upon her hypersensitive body, and how dauntingly desperate her voice was in its persistence in begging please to unknowingly egg on his verbal seduction, "You said no more sex too, I heard you wrong?" Taunted the sensual Maurice through a husky whisper, his deep, Louisiana native tone having become enlivened a deep-rooted hunger of and distaste for needing to have and hold her body within such a daunting state of expression. Under such a consumptive aural haze, Maurice had no longer nurtured any privilege to mental clarity as his fingers swiftly hooked around the material of the dame's drenched panties to reveal the sopping mess that was the hidden beauty beneath it, ultimately blinding him with need as his free hand reached to glide tauntingly his gentle fingers over her glistening folds as though there was no possible way to bring a sense of togetherness through the touch that enlivened both vessels, "Use yo' words and I'll give you whatever you want." Maurice whispered into the aroused peach fuzz of his first love's ear; and listening wholly to how soft her expression had invaded the atmosphere they consumed with the energy of their sensual encounter. For he lived to have her so willing, at his disposal in such a short amount of time, so ready and needy with just a small touch upon her, and so bashful under the flaunt that were the fingers that spread to showcase the damsel's natural lubricant strung heavily between his middle and ring fingers.
"Look at this.. so sexy—" Maurice mutters teasingly, "This pussy so pretty,Florence.."
Florence cooed desperately; her pleasure having alerted an atmosphere of its intensity as though it had ever yearned to hear of such an intimate sensation. But still she hummed sweetly, like honey from her lips and molasses from throbbing center that taunted her resilience into weakness against how painfully unbearable her throbbing clitoris had become under the body that hadn't relieved her of the knowledge of the presence he nurtured beneath his cargos. "Fuck me, Maurice." Demanded she, the lethal rasp of the dame, and in response only evoking a malicious smirk from the man that hovered over her; his erection pressing firmer against her backside to urge the dramatics of her verbal expression into the heaviness of the vacant environment that was the beach.
He was living for the way her body responded to that of his own; how it reacted to how precise his touches were upon her body and how wholly her responses were to that of his tyranny over her curvaceous makeup and all too much enjoying the way she was fully roped into anything that fell from his lips "Whoyou talking to?" He further taunted, "Hm?" forcing needy pleads from out of the mouth of his weakened lover; her beckoning body fluid against that staleness of his very own as the subconscious take that matters of her unfulfilled desires into that of their own hands with the sly journey of the dame's hands down the front of her body in what it sought out for the fabric it soon invaded to graze pleasurably over the hypersensitivity that had her out of character and undeniably needy.
