With a throaty moan, Sherri slammed down onto his **** as hard as she
could. Her **** clenched about his prick, the contractions tighter and
wetter and hotter than any **** he had ever felt wrap about his ****. He
gritted his teeth, straining to hold back, but Sherri knew what he was
doing.

"Come, you bastard!" she shouted. "Shoot it up my ****! You can't win!
Give it to me! Come on, you ****!"

Her **** was just too much for him. The rippling, caressing softness of
her **** always did it to him.