It washed across my body and had me shivering and gasping in delight. My eyes rolled back into my head as my hips wiggled. I jammed my fist deep into ...oey's pussy.She bucked a final time and then collapsed on my bed, hugging Mr. Turtle to her belly. Her eyes fluttered. I moaned and gasped, my orgasm burning hot through me. It crested in my mind, carrying me to new heights.And then retreated. With a sigh, I pulled my fist out. Her juices coated my hand and wrist. Even my forearm was stained with. And that, after all, was the object of her mental masturbation game.She saw the man as blond. He had, like herself, a good tan and good body tone. He was, as they say, an all-American. His chest was lean and muscular. His stomach was lean and flat. His biceps were big and strong. His shoulders were broad, his hair long and neat, his legs thick and his thighs as strong as any tennis player Sharon could imagine. She was happy with her fantasy man, especially happy with the way she pictured his. More

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