Both went to the front door as they heard Julie’s car pull up. “Ok, a little more,” she said, and Andy obediently complied, some remote part of his brain marveling at his control, how he didn’t reply to his deep and feral need to bury his cock in her as quickly and deeply as he could. All the while he was amazed at how wet she was, how easily his shrouded cock moved in her and even through the thin latex he could feel her heat, the tight hold with which her vaginal muscles reflexively gripped his rigid cock. Nothing in her manner seemed hesitant, shy, or embarrassed. Julie laid back, luxuriating in Andy’s caresses, his hands gliding across her body with greater and greater assurance; caressing her side, reaching behind to dance up and down her back (his “Julie” brain file recording her back as slightly wider, very slightly more muscular than Sam’s as his traveling hands fed the voracious brain files).
