Not wanting to climax prematurely, I put my hands on her hips again, stopping her back and forth movement and encouraging her up off my body. Leaning the bike against the wall of the house, I gave a quick “shave-and-a-haircut” knock on the front door. Her hips moved against me as she ground her labia on my erection. Her stomach was flat, with just a hint of the fullness that marked a mature woman. Reaching down below her left knee, I raised her left leg and placed her foot on the couch immediately next to us. She laughed and screamed as I retaliated, moving up my body until her hands were around my neck. She shuddered in the throes of a petite climax, and I took my hands off her sexual parts and, again, clasped her to my chest. I felt guilty about even looking until I noticed that she, too, had looked down, as if to insure that I could really see her breasts. She continued to let herself down, her hymen rupturing suddenly, dropping her suddenly onto my penis. As my hands stroked her warm skin, I saw the telltale sign of a pink flush on her chest and knew that, if I wanted her, she was mine.
