Follow Up — Shana and Grace II

Grace rode, rode, was a lift, and bounced. I could see her in the mirror, her facial expression twisted, fraught, ecstatic. Tight. Contracted. Bounce, and my nerves went on fire, squeezing in, trapped, my mouth hit by Shanas greater lips, odour filling nostrils, moan, and a flood of juice invading. Bounce, hit, off, on, squeeze, sneeze, atchoo, my God. Groaned off, and wet, sweat reeking. Stopit. O no, not over yet. Yet a squeeze