set must have seen, including Aaron Simpson.
She was wet, needing no hands to position me as she sank down, enveloping my column inside her, the heat of her intense. She was already keyed up from the buzz of the evening’s event, perhaps the continuing interest from Hollywood’s biggest action hero, and now to find out her sex scenes were not only approved by her husband, but actively turned me on.
She moaned as she took me fully inside her, even before beginning any movement, just from the feeling of my hardness filling her up.
I gripped her bare behind as she kissed me again, pulling her down onto me, my cock throbbing in her tight confines.
I loved how she smiled as she kissed me, and could not stop as she broke from it, leaning back to look at me, look at us doing it in a limousine. The old Hayley wouldn’t have been as bold as this, I was certain. But she’d bared herself completely before a film crew, and tastefully before the viewing public. She had a new confidence that was oh-so-sexy.
Sitting up, hands sweeping her hair back out of her eyes, her breasts so prominent and hardly contained by that tiny dress.
“Was he big?” I asked now.
For a moment, she flashed confusion. It wasn’t difficult to tell what I was talking about, though.
“I’m not sure….”
“Come on, you spent a week lying naked with him in a bed,” I chuckled.
“No, I’m not sure I should talk about it,” she said, and somehow it made my loins pulse that she didn’t deny having intimate knowledge about her co-star’s appendage.
“Why, you think I’m going to tell anybody?”
“I guess not,” she said. I could see in her eyes she was trying to work me out, decipher this strange fascination of mine.
“So, was he?”
“Not particularly. I guess he wasn’t so different from you.”
Stirring a little on my length, I saw her face change, her eyes widen, her mouth open, and knew that she sensed me throbbing inside her in response to her discussing her co-star.
“Was he hard when you were with him?”
Another slight pause.
“I’ve told you....” she said, confused.
“Tell me again.”
“Yes, he was. Sometimes.” She let out a little gasp at my response to her words.
“I guess you liked that.”
“It just happens to actors—most actors doing that. It’s nothing important,” she said, rocking her hips very gently.
“I’m just curious. Did you like it?”
I moved my hands up to her breasts, squeezing her through the thin material of her dress, feeling those little buds hard beneath.
“Like it?” she moaned, looking down at me.
“Filming those scenes—did you enjoy it? I mean it was Aaron Simpson, and there you were making him all hard for you.”
She moaned again, but said: “It wasn’t like that. It was work.”
“But you must have been a little turned on yourself.”
My tone attempted to reassure her, avoiding any hint of the judgmental, any ounce of negativity that might be construed as disapproval.
“I told you when it happened. It wasn’t sexy.”
She let out a cry, and for a few moments just rode me, slowly, forcefully, as though she really hadn’t ever felt me as hard as this, and now wanted to make the most of it.
I thought it was time to let things lie, to just enjoy this intimacy with her. But I couldn’t stop myself. I said,
“Were you trying to make me jealous? Inviting me to this premiere—making those scenes in the first place?”
She looked uncertain for a moment, as though she was a schoolgirl caught smoking under the bleachers.
“Those scenes were in the script,” she said, referring only to part of my accusation.
“But you did kind of want to shock me, by inviting me tonight?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
She nodded, lifted off me, readjusting. She turned, straddling me again, but now facing away, facing the direction of travel. Presenting me a great image of her spectacular rear before she dropped down, that sweet pussy swallowing my hardness.
I
She was wet, needing no hands to position me as she sank down, enveloping my column inside her, the heat of her intense. She was already keyed up from the buzz of the evening’s event, perhaps the continuing interest from Hollywood’s biggest action hero, and now to find out her sex scenes were not only approved by her husband, but actively turned me on.
She moaned as she took me fully inside her, even before beginning any movement, just from the feeling of my hardness filling her up.
I gripped her bare behind as she kissed me again, pulling her down onto me, my cock throbbing in her tight confines.
I loved how she smiled as she kissed me, and could not stop as she broke from it, leaning back to look at me, look at us doing it in a limousine. The old Hayley wouldn’t have been as bold as this, I was certain. But she’d bared herself completely before a film crew, and tastefully before the viewing public. She had a new confidence that was oh-so-sexy.
Sitting up, hands sweeping her hair back out of her eyes, her breasts so prominent and hardly contained by that tiny dress.
“Was he big?” I asked now.
For a moment, she flashed confusion. It wasn’t difficult to tell what I was talking about, though.
“I’m not sure….”
“Come on, you spent a week lying naked with him in a bed,” I chuckled.
“No, I’m not sure I should talk about it,” she said, and somehow it made my loins pulse that she didn’t deny having intimate knowledge about her co-star’s appendage.
“Why, you think I’m going to tell anybody?”
“I guess not,” she said. I could see in her eyes she was trying to work me out, decipher this strange fascination of mine.
“So, was he?”
“Not particularly. I guess he wasn’t so different from you.”
Stirring a little on my length, I saw her face change, her eyes widen, her mouth open, and knew that she sensed me throbbing inside her in response to her discussing her co-star.
“Was he hard when you were with him?”
Another slight pause.
“I’ve told you....” she said, confused.
“Tell me again.”
“Yes, he was. Sometimes.” She let out a little gasp at my response to her words.
“I guess you liked that.”
“It just happens to actors—most actors doing that. It’s nothing important,” she said, rocking her hips very gently.
“I’m just curious. Did you like it?”
I moved my hands up to her breasts, squeezing her through the thin material of her dress, feeling those little buds hard beneath.
“Like it?” she moaned, looking down at me.
“Filming those scenes—did you enjoy it? I mean it was Aaron Simpson, and there you were making him all hard for you.”
She moaned again, but said: “It wasn’t like that. It was work.”
“But you must have been a little turned on yourself.”
My tone attempted to reassure her, avoiding any hint of the judgmental, any ounce of negativity that might be construed as disapproval.
“I told you when it happened. It wasn’t sexy.”
She let out a cry, and for a few moments just rode me, slowly, forcefully, as though she really hadn’t ever felt me as hard as this, and now wanted to make the most of it.
I thought it was time to let things lie, to just enjoy this intimacy with her. But I couldn’t stop myself. I said,
“Were you trying to make me jealous? Inviting me to this premiere—making those scenes in the first place?”
She looked uncertain for a moment, as though she was a schoolgirl caught smoking under the bleachers.
“Those scenes were in the script,” she said, referring only to part of my accusation.
“But you did kind of want to shock me, by inviting me tonight?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
She nodded, lifted off me, readjusting. She turned, straddling me again, but now facing away, facing the direction of travel. Presenting me a great image of her spectacular rear before she dropped down, that sweet pussy swallowing my hardness.
I
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