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I put it on a member, filling her body and giving her as much sensation as I could.
She suddenly bent over with an elastic arch, squeezed her mouth, bit the edge of her jacket sleeve, and began to fight in convulsions of orgasm.
Each movement of the member in the elastic ring of its walls led to the next bend and muffled moan.

I stopped, gave her a breath – and again began to enter her, this time taking care only of myself.
The pleasure of her orgasm sped up my own, and I threw out a hot fountain of sperm into the hot depths of Olin’s vagina in half a minute.
He made several final movements, feeling the last drops pouring into her body, and he stopped in exhaustion.
This time she gave me a breath, then made it clear that she wanted to free herself, and we were disconnected.
With a skirt upholstered and panties lowered to her knees, she reached out to her handbag on the table, pulled out a napkin daily and stuck it to her underpants.
Put them on, straightened her skirt, tucked her breasts into a bra and fastened her blouse.
Two more minutes of manipulations with the cosmetic bag, and now nothing in her appearance betrayed the consequences of violent spontaneous sex in the office – only the gleam of eyes, slightly swollen lips and slightly disheveled hair.
She went to the door, made sure that I was also dressed, and tried to open it.
– You’re a scoundrel! You still closed the lock! – And you’re just extraordinary, Chamomile.
I adore you.
– Wretch, did not let me hang out as it should.
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