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Her vision narrowed upon this other woman, this stranger with buttock grabbed, held in the act of spitting her narrow body upon her lover's spear-straight length.

It was possible that one, in bringing the other off, triggered their own cacophonous orgasm; maybe they each brought it on in the other, it was impossible to tell.

Simply their cries, shudders and the twitching of his bouncing testicles were all there was to go on.

Lines of glistening fluid streaked the length of crimson flesh: a sap-like splodge hovering around the head and still perhaps leaking ever so slowly from its small deep hollow; the rest of the shaft showing lashings of something a slightly different colour, a slightly different consistency.

The scent of it invaded the kneeling girl's nostrils as she beheld the task before her, her head going dizzy for a moment with the miasma and her own barely-repressed feelings.

Anchoring her body above and below, he started to pull her more forcefully forward onto his passion.

Her abdomen closed with his and their lovestrokes became shorter in pitch, yet so much quicker in frenzied tempo.As the cream flowed, the commotion began to slow: the master's legs relaxed, lowering him in subsidence back to the cushion beneath; the lady of the house slumped down upon his chest and lap as her face sank to rest against his shoulder.Their breathing slowed as they clung together, a picture of intimate post-erotic contentment.Her head lolled ever more to the side, grateful for the support of her husband's blunt fingers as she became less and less able to sustain the energy of her amorous assault.Only her hips seemed to continue as before, as if they were drawing all the vigour from the rest of her body to maintain her thrusts.One of her husband's hands was at her neck now, cupping the side where it merged with her shoulder.