Annabelle is also sort of amazed, dizzy from their pace of it. But she likes it, too. "I'm not the one with that insistently hard prick," she teases. She wonders if he's right, though. The more they do this kind of thing, the more that starts to feel like a possibility.

She reaches between her own legs, and strokes her fingertips along the urethral vein of his cock where she can touch it, coaxing it to come back against her. "Push it between my legs," she says softly, curling her hand around the glans of his cock when she can, stroking and pulling him forward in guiding strokes. She rests his cock against the flat of her cleave, where she's covered by the slick, damp cotton of her underwear, her clit pert against his dick through them.

Like this, she closes her legs, and rests a palm on Lauren's jaw again as she lifts her arm, turning her head a little to face him, smiling softly, her expression groggy and content, flushed a candy pink.

"Move."