We are both drowned in the kiss.
He hasn't got his oats for days because of the busy work.
Now, it feels like someone who has been walking in the desert for several days catches sight of water.
His hand slides into my clothes and sets me on fire.
I'm just up and I don't even have the time to put on my underwear. His rough fingers linger on the
sensitive spots on my breasts, causing me to tremble.
"No."
I gasp in a low voice. The refusal doesn't sound guarded, but willing.
The makeup artist and the stylist will be here soon. Frances is always reluctant to stop in a short while,
so how can we have enough time to enjoy it?
However, Frances didn't seem to hear me. He lowers his head and gently bites on my shoulder.
He reaches the other hand to touch my underwear from under my nightgown.
Then he strokes my most private part through the underwear.
"They're coming soon. There's no time," I whisper, and under his caresses, I lose all my strength.
"They can wait."
As Frances speaks, he lays me on the bed, takes off my nightgown and sinks his head onto my
breasts.
"Jane, I want you."
His voice is filled with lust, somewhat husky. However, the wild voice sounds incredibly charming.
I'm a little dizzy.
I no longer resist and sink into the fantastic intercourse with him.
It has been a long time since we made love. He behaves very rudely like a spring chicken. Several
times, I feel he wants to knock me off.
"Frances, don't be so rude!"
I grumble coquettishly, patting gently on his chest.
He pauses, gazes at me for two seconds, and suddenly speeds up, moving faster and more violently.
I am like a feather floating in the air, floating towards the brightest and farthest place.
Suddenly, a white light meets my eyes. I scream and tremble crazily as I'm turned on.
Frances doesn't slow down, and I have orgasms again and again.
...
In the end, he releases in my body.
The boiling love juice rushes into the deepest part of my body. My body and mind are both conquered
by him.
I look outside. It is almost dawn.
During the intercourse, I heard knocks on the door. Our phones also rang many times.
After the orgasms, Frances reluctantly let go of me.
I get out of bed, about to get the cell phone at the bedside.
When my feet touch the ground, I find my legs so sore that I can't even stand on my feet.
Damn! He's gone too far!
It has been too long since he got his oats, and he just doesn't care about my feeling at all!
I take out the phone and check the call log. It was indeed the makeup artist and the stylist who made
the call.
And now, it is already seven o'clock in the morning.
It took more than three hours! The stylist and the makeup artist must have left. The wedding starts at
eleven o'clock. Will it be too late to start the preparation now?
Sure enough, sex will mess everything up!
I turn around to look at Frances and snap angrily, "It's all your fault. It's too late. Now, the makeup artist
may have left."
"No way. They should have heard your voice at the door and have known what's going on. They should
be waiting there."
Frances slowly puts on his clothes, but upon hearing him, I just want to rush up and plug his mouth with
socks.
Did they hear me?
Thinking about it carefully, I find myself truly have made a loud sound just now.
So, if they could hear me from outside, old Mr. Louis and Hilda must have heard me as well!
How awkward!
But...
I am not the one to be blamed!
Rolling my eyes at Frances, I angrily change my clothes and drag my sore legs towards the door.
Fortunately, old Mr. Louis and Hilda are not in the living room, so I am not so embarrassed.
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