Backseat Rhythm: Afterglow Of Sin
She could feel Greg’s cum trickling down her inner thighs, warm and sticky, a filthy reminder of what they’d just done—what they’d risked—back there at the side of the road.
The engine of Greg’s sleek yellow Camaro roared as he floored the accelerator, the tires gripping the asphalt with a snarl as they peeled away down the freeway exit. The late afternoon sun glinted off the hood, casting long shadows across the empty back roads they’d chosen for their escape from the scene at the side of the road. Cathy’s breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, her fingers digging into the leather seat as the c...
