“Tell me I’m tighter than Brittany,” I moan, even though I hate to hear her name pass his lips. “So much tighter,” he agrees, thrusting hard and deep. “So much wetter.” Another thrust, another flick of my clit. My breasts bounce as the car rocks underneath us, taking the motion of its master’s thrusting hips without complaint. “So much prettier, too. I imagined you when I was fucking her, you know that?”
