It wasn't a frantic ride; it was a slow, undulating dance of claiming. Her hips rolled in a languid, circular grind, her back arched beautifully. With each slow rise, my thick, corded shaft would emerge, glistening and slick with her juices.
With each deliberate sink back down, my cock would vanish into her depths, accompanied by a lewd, wet, sucking sound that echoed in the silent, tense room. Her mature, welcoming pussy and my demanding, rigid cock were a perfect, obscene fit.
But my attention was divided to them all, as a king's should be. My left hand stayed on Patricia's hip, guiding her. With my right, I reached out.
My fingers found Madison's dripping slit. I slid two fingers deep inside her with no preamble.
She cried out, a sharp "Ah!", and her body immediately began bucking against my hand, her own need surging back to life.
