I pulled back and looked into her face, which I was surprised to see had not yet cast off the throes of passionate love.
“Tell me, John,” she breathed, “tell me about it.” She continued to knead my backside with her legs.
“I…we…” I started, unsure as to what she wanted to hear, but maintaining a steady, somewhat subdued rhythm.
“Does he suck you off?” she purred.
My cock stiffened anew within her.
“Yes,” I panted.
“Tell me how you like it,” she pressed, her pupils growing larger and her cheeks flushing brighter.
“I like him to…” I began to pump harder, “to fondle my sac while he…”
“Yes…” she urged, and arched her back till her breasts flattened against my chest.
“…while takes me into his mouth and…teases the slit with his tongue,” I groaned.
“More,” she whispered as she pushed her hand between us and began to massage her clitoris.
“And then he pumps me with his lips…” I managed to squeeze out, though the challenge of coherent speech was fast becoming insurmountable.
She rubbed herself harder.
“Until I come down his throat,” I finished, nearly mad with desire for precisely this.
“And tell me, John, how it is you pleasure him,” she moaned.
“I beg him to take me,” I called, desperately close to my climax, “as only a man can take another.”
“Oh God…” she cried, hammering her body into mine, her busy hand almost a blur.
“He’s so strong and hard when he pounds into me that I…” I panted, “I sometimes come off all over again.”
And the thought of this final act sent me over the edge and beyond; I spent myself entirely and collapsed on top of her, calling his name over and over as a wild incantation.
Mary screamed, and her own orgasm nearly tore her apart. She thrashed beneath me in an incoherent frenzy, her head thrown back, her hands clawing at my back, her whole body shaking in unrestrained ecstasy as a great tide of all-consuming rapture came crashing down upon us.