"Oh... Right there!... Yes! ...Don't stop," you panted, curling your hand into my hair and rucking your hips. If I had wanted to escape (which I did ...OT) I don't think I could have. The back of your knee behind my head and a fist full of my hair kept me right where you and I wanted. On a couple of occasions, I felt you stiffen up, followed by a fresh dose of your essence, so I knew I was doing things right. You never lost your composure, never cried out, never loosened your grip, so I kept on. Getting down on her hands and knees while the brute thundered into her dog style would make her feel like a bitch in heat, groveling under the animal, sinking into the realm of utter degradation. But screwing with him face to face would be thrilling too. She would be able to look up at him, to see him pant and slobber in his bestial enthusiasm as he poured the prick to her in -- she grinned at the concept -- in the standard missionary position!It didn't really matter. Tracy knew that she would. More

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