I reconnected with her right breast. I've always loved her breasts. Not small, not large, though on her petite frame they looked bigger than they really were. She had big, dark brown nipples that hardened quickly. They were a little droopy, even from the days Before Kids, but they were a woman's breasts.
I brushed my chest hair across them, and she sighed. My cock was half-hard, just firm enough to tease her cleft with a promise. I didn't have to feel her clit in order to know it was rock-hard, too. I could feel her fingers fiddling between us, then my cockhead felt less of her pubic thatch and more of her pink. She'd spread her pussylips for me. I knew she was in a hurry. She was always in a hurry.
I rose up on straightened arms, causing her to murmur an objection. "Wait," I told her. "You're not wet." I licked a thumb, moving saliva to where it was needed. She was in too much of a hurry to allow me to savor her with my mouth. Three thumbfulls was enough. One more thumbfull on my cockhead, and then I nudged inside her.
"Oh," she breathed, "Oh. Oh." I topped her once again and pressed forward with my hips. "Oh. Oh." I was in. Quarterway. Halfway. Then all the way. Her knees came up and her ankles pulled hard on my hamstrings. I rooted in small circles, reluctant to retreat from her slick warmth. "Oh. Oh."
Her little inner muscles nibbled on me, and my cock toyed with her cervix. We fit together perfectly, cock in cunt, her preference for me to fuck her Missionary style, her lust for my cock to probe deliberate and deep and to stir her body to orgasm.
Now I was ready to pump. First a slow half-stroke, then a sharp, driving inward thrust that grazed her cervix and buried up against the stops of her sheath. She exhaled a gasping moan, "Oh, fuck," and I began the full-length strokes. "Oh, oh, oh" she chanted to me in a soft voice as I fucked her with deep, shuddering plunges that got her breasts dancing.
