I rub tiny circles against the fabric, leaving her panting and moaning into my mouth, as I swallow every delicious sound that slips past her lips until her body is shaking. Only then do I let my fingers slip into the fabric and graze against her bare pussy, relishing in how soaked she is for me. “Fuck, Tink, who knew you’d be such a good girl for your husband,” I muse, slowing down my movements until she is trying to chase more friction with her hips. “Ah, ah, we are going to be late for dinner if I let you come.” I pull my hand away from her, and the groan she lets out is ungodly.
