She stood for a moment, frozen on the spot. Then she lunged toward the handle of the back door and swung it open with force."You fucking son of a bitc...!" she screamed.She leaned into the back seat and pounded her fists into Roger's torso while he raised his arms in defense. She continued to shout and punch, and then emerged from the backseat with a handful of clothing. She slammed the door with a kick of her foot.Her face was streaked with makeup, and her normally-perfect hair was a tangled. Ned’s nose filled with her scent. He heard her groan and strain and his cock felt milked by her vaginal compressions. Then Indira slowly rose and lowered her butt, using side to side movements and sliding her nipples around his chest. Ned simply went along with her lead. She was greasing his entire length with the different textures and temperatures resident along her cunt walls. Ned percolated steadily. Indira neither hurried nor slowed the pace. Indulging the leisurely pace, Ned was beginning. More

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