Fuck, you have to ask?

Lana rode with someone else to Heather’s house, so she rides with me to hers. She spends every moment of the ten-minute drive with her hand wrapped around my dick and her lips in my ear telling me everything she wants to do to me, and everything she wants me to do to her. I focus as hard as I can on driving and manage to avoid cumming all over her fingers.

When we get to her bedroom, our clothes fly away like leaves in a windstorm. I end up behind Lana with one hand mauling a full, firm boob and my other buried in her wet pink heat. I have a thumb rubbing her joystick and two fingers pressing on her G-spot. I’m squeezing her tit roughly and pinching its rubbery pink point even more roughly. My steel-hard rod is pressing against her back. She moans and writhes and rubs against me—it’s just too bad she’s too short for her tight little round ass to grind against my cock. I push her into the wall and bite the side of her neck, and she cums hard on my fingers with a wild squeal.

“You’re a sex god,” Lana gasps, “a hot-fucking sex god . . . I need your cock, baby—need you in my tiny little pussy—need to feel your big cuntbuster hammering my tight, wet hole—feel you stretching me out, so fucking full—fuck me!” she shrieks, cumming again on my relentless fingers. “Please, sexy man, take my tight little cunt—use it with that big fucking dick—own it—show me how a real man fucks!” Climax #3, I think smugly. “Please, lover, any way you want, however you want, just give me that big fucking cock—fuck my pussy—fucking fuck me!”