through his groin, Slick reaches back with force.
He roughly places a Kelly's hands behind her head as he thrust harder as he makes the devious dame squeal into her own liquid undoing.
The killer’s hips are powerful as his hands hold Kellys’ in a vice grip that causes a slight fear.
Slick slides deeply, in and out, hearing his wives body speak a language he knows all too well. A series of wet sloshes, then a gentle plop when withdrawn, only to be then shoved deeply.
Suddenly, his eyes closed, the hustler feels his world collide around him, gliding deeper with into the love of his life.
Kelly’s body is well utilized, open, agape as her man grinds harder and harder. Pleasure and bliss building as he thrust deeper and deeper.
Eyes squeezed shut, Slick’s pelvis arches forward, quickly loosing himself in a liquid sense of urgency. Thrusting harder and harder until suddenly feeling a familiar sensation.
Kelly’s exploring finger.
Arched deep within the hustler’s flexing bottom, lost in pleasure, slick is too gone to protest as he brutally pummels forward to the light of orgasmic ascension.
Suddenly, seeing stars in eyes squeezed tight, the blue eyed thug screams out loud, grunting like a wounded wolf fighting a good fight.
His body releasing all he is deeply, right as Kelly quivers around his throbbing authority over her, gushing forth her love as well.
As moments pass, the spent hustler regains his gumption. Hopelessly in love all over again.
For the exception of one thing.
Slick feels satisfied, rolling off of Kelly, glaring over to his lovely wife.
“I told'cha’ not to do that ......,” he groans.
The blond beauty says nothing, rising to wash her hands and inner thighs. A few feet away, her legs wobbly, the dazed breathless flapper looks back at her husband. Slick is a heap of satisfaction though a funny sight.
“Next time, please take of them damn socks,” she grins.
Slick is left to himself. Complete and happy.
Though still surrounded by pink.
The killer scoffs, feeling his tight asshole throb slightly.
“Should burn this bitch down,” he laughs.
The killer rises, reaching for his slacks.
“Ay -- ya’ sneaky bitch ..... bring me a fuck’in wet rag!”
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