Then George's hands clutching feverishly

Then George's hands clutching feverishly at her backside, his cock
thundering into her in sustained, hard, inhuman strokes. She kept up a steady
grumble, her fingers clawing at George's shoulders, her breasts bobbing up
and down. Her shoulders pounded into the floor, her back arched and her
hips deposit up and down furiously. Sharon was half-sitting, half-lying
in the dilapidated corner, in occupied unawareness, her fingers probing in her
own thrilling pussy.

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