Touching her cunt was all that mattered. Her cunt. She smiled. She never called it her cunt before. Back when she was married. She frowned. She was st...ll married. Wasn't she? It was hard to think and besides, it didn't matter. She came again. John nodded toward her window and she turned her head. Two men in the next car were staring at her, eyes wide. She smiled and threw her head back, rubbing herself harder. She loved it when men watched. The light changed and John turned the corner and onto. She was now boiling hot and was eying the tempting cock, hungrily, as her mouth watered with desire.The crotch of her jeans was now darkening with moisture. Jerry wasn’t sure whether the jean material had been dampened by his mouth, or by the juice coming up through it from the inside of the painted on pants, or both.He continued to attack the hot crotch with his mouth, and could swear that he was tasting the first hint of her cuntal juices.He raised his head from her crotch and looked back. More

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