I splayed the four fingers I had stuffed up my cunt in another desperate attempt to replicate the spectacular things Xander did to my body. Hard. Porn Not even to myself. He doubled over from the impact and clutched his stomach in pain. Scratch marks of his own crisscrossed across his back and a hickey marked his collarbone. Xander readjusted himself sitting up and grabbing my ass so he could continue to power into me while my upper half still rested back on the couch. “Hey,” I say as I walk up to the new guy who was sitting on the couch with his back to me. I’m home!” He sang. Then the door itself. Again, it was a poor substitute, but the memory of him alone still meant my fingers pulled strings of my wetness from my sex every time I withdrew them.
