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Best to face it head on. He headed downstairs. She was in the kitchen, dressed in a cheery yellow dress, with a plate of pancakes. His heart skipped a beat in anticipation.“Better get your breakfast! That ferry is coming soon,” she said, with the cheerful demeanor of a suburban housewife who knew that Target was having a sale on LaCroix. He did find himself very hungry, and he started scarfing down the pancakes, and drinking some orange juice. No pulp, the way he liked it.“Thank you Vivienne,” he said“You are welcome, Jordan,” she answered. The barest hint of a blush moved across her features. Before he knew it, breakfast was gone, and last night was no longer sticking in his memories. She gave him his backpack, and said he should rush. She walked him to the front gate, and gave him a hug that seemed totally friendly---but also confirmed that his memories of her being voluptuous under her plain clothing was not totally in his imagination. And then she was urging him to run, and run. She felt the impending release her burden and seized the opportunity; that dull leaden ache had to be expelled. She was tensing, it throbbed through her and kept building with overwhelming speed. Ratcheting up with each lunge from her hips onto him - he met her fully with each one. With a furious deafening growl and a desperate final stab - a deep warmth began to spread inside her. Meeting it with fierce convulsions of her own, it seized her wretched body. Shaking violently from her core, she clamped hard on him impossible to squeeze him any tighter. Sliding against the sensitive muscular walls, she convulsed harder and harder. With a croak, she shook with such violence, Tamara’s tight embrace held her firm. Astride him, each diminishing convulsion provoked moans and then whimpers from Erik. She had milked him into her, its sticky warmth coursing in her loins held deep inside her by his still spasming cock. From the chaos, his body slumped into the bed, his ribs rising and falling.
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