Women Seeking Women #62 - Scene 3

She was half-past forty when she slid over him. Tightest pussy he’d ever felt, sitting down hot and slow like a hand gripping in a glove. April 16, 2010. Earlier that night, under a street lamp, a cop had her pinned to the trunk of a squad car, hands zip-tied, short skirt riding up. His mouth went straight for the wet between her legs, tongue curling inside, the rasp of stubble hot on her thighs as she came in his face, legs shaking. Then he let her go. She found his place later, rode him raw. His tongue remembered that cop’s taste as he lapped at her, building her closer, feeling her clench down in slick pulses. Sweat ran down between her breasts, glistening, hips snapping sharp, more crushing, dripping come down his shaft. Every thrust rang tight, and he groaned with it. Two fucks and nothing in between but raw need. The first act lingered like salt on the tongue, sticky, eager, a legacy left wet. No tenderness or pity, just the little, ruthless honesty of the evening.