⋅•⋅⊰∙∘⭒❊✿❊⭒∘∙⊱⋅•
Mr. Fairchild just kept going, his hips thrusting forward with this relentless, almost machine-like precision. Amidst the haze of overwhelming pleasure, I realized with a mixture of panic and absurdity that he hadn't even worked up a real sweat yet.
Sure, there was a light sheen on his chest, but his breathing remained steady, muscles tight and powerful, it felt like he could do this forever. Meanwhile, I was completely spent...my limbs were trembling, my voice hoarse from screaming, my body was slick with sweat and everything else.
I was done after two mind-blowing orgasms.
I wasn't in heat, so I had my limits, and I was right on the edge. But Mr. Fairchild? He looked like he was only getting warmed up, with grey, focused eyes and a jaw set like he was ready to take over a boardroom.
