Sherry and the Stripper

Now, here she was, on her knees, her eyes pleading with this young black stallion to let her bring him to sexual completion with her lips, her tongue, her mouth. Michael stepped forward in answer to her eyes. He placed his cock head against her lips. Sherry opened her mouth and slid it in.

As she bobbed her head back and forth, Michael said, "Your hand." She understood the command, and Sherry let her hand move down and push her skirt up as her fingers brushed the front of the thong.

Sherry wanted it to last much longer, but Michael moaned and she felt the throb of his vein against her lips. The first spurt hit the back of her throat and triggered a massive spasm in her clitoris. Her body was rocked as Michael shot six more big shots and a series of smaller ones while Sherry danced on the end of her finger.

Finally, she sagged against Michael's leg, unable to remain upright without support. Her mouth was still attached to his cock as it now deflated, draining the remainder of his load onto her tongue.

Michael helped Sherry into the chair and began dressing. As he slid his jacket on, Michael extended his hand. "The panties." Sherry raised her skirt and hooked her thumbs into the thong she wore. Lifting her hips from the chair, she slid it off and handed it to Michael. He slipped it into his jacket pocket and departed, just as he said he would.

Sherry sat in the chair with her eyes closed. She wasn't even sure if Harry was there until she heard the closet door open. She opened her eyes to see what her husband's reaction would be. A sheepish grin covered his face and a large wet spot stained the front of his trousers. Harry had cum in his pants.