My Favorite Teacher

Angela shoved him down on the bed. They had a plane to catch but not yet—not until they both came apart first. She climbed on top, pulled her skirt up, and sank down on his cock without a word. The first thrust was hard enough to make her breath catch. Then she set a rhythm, hips rolling, working him deep while sweat gathered in the hollow of her throat. Oliver gripped her thighs and bucked up to meet her, his teeth on her shoulder, breath hot. She rode harder, wet sounds slapping between them, her little bush slick with her own heat. He swore, pushed her down flat, thrust until his rhythm broke and he pulled out, jerking thick ropes across her belly and the dark hair of her tiny bush, sticky and hot, panting against her skin.