"Annngh! Syril… Ouuuuu! I can't! I can't do this again whilst standing. I'm so wet for you…" Sherry tremulously lamented, her legs buckling under invisible or imperceptible pressure.
Syril didn't waste time, he swept her feet off the ground in one move and took her to her sofa, laying her gently on where he'd claim her.
Once her back touched the soft cushion, she groaned softly, covered by the warmth from the sofa beneath her and the sexy, masculine figure hovering over her.
Syril was literally on top of her, although not lying on her, his hands placed on the armrest, his legs being the only point of connection with the voluptuous figure under him.
