I was still aware of where I was, and who I was. I considered telling her that it wasn’t working, but I decided that it would be more fun to play al...ng, and see what she’d do next. So, I stayed quiet and continued breathing… in… out… in… out…“Royce?” August asked after a short pause. “Royce can you hear me?”“Yes,” I answered in a voice that I hoped sounded like I was hypnotized.“Do you know where you are Royce?”“At school.”“Where at school?”“In my room, in bed.”“Good,” August said. “You can. ‘Let’s switch, ‘ she suggested. ‘Then you can pound me.’Again, Jack almost spurted, but thankfully, was a man of excellent control. Wordlessly he pulled out and stood next to the bed on the floor, flipping Ginny neatly onto her back and pulling her hips nearly off the edge. Using a hand to guide his cock he slid inside her hotness again; and Gin instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist.Grabbing onto her hips, Jack began to do just what Gin had seemed to want: pound her.And he was right.. “Let me take good care of you, I'll make sure you forget all about those dirty women. “I could feel her tongue wrap itself around my dick. Just as I was about to cum, she suddenly stop. She sat on the bed, took my hand, and bought it under her dress. She wasn't wearing any panties. I felt the warmth of her vagina. It was deep, warm, and very wet. My fingers were all but sucked inside. “Why are you doing this?” I asked. Instead of answering, she wraps her hand around my dick. “You don't have to. ‘But he’s married and lives 2,500 miles away,’ I said, perplexed. ‘We get together every month or so,’ she said. ‘He makes excuses to come out to conferences here. There have been a few trips elsewhere – Napa, Cabo San Lucas, the Bahamas.’ ‘I can see how that can be appealing,’ I said, surprised that a woman who lived rather frugally, if not gypsyish in a loft that felt more like a Pier One version of a Moroccan sultan’s tent than the guts of late 1920’s warehouse, would compromise her values..
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