Ignoring the phone as it rang for the umpteenth time, he finally left the bathroom and stood outside the bedroom door. Lolita would be sleeping, he mused, inching the door open. His cock stiffening, his balls in need of a damned good nibbling, he gazed at the pretty girl, her breasts peeping over the top of the quilt. Creeping into the room, he carefully pulled the quilt back and gazed longingly at the lips of her pussy, the wet crack of her vagina. Her firm breasts, her nipples rising invitingly, she was a picture of feminine sexuality. Her mouth partially open, Will wondered how many cocks she'd sucked, how many purple knobs had slipped between her pouting lips and bathed her tongue with spunk. Her long black hair fanning out across the pillow, her legs parted, she was in need of a damned good rogering. Grabbing the base of his erect cock, Will retracted his foreskin in readiness to fuck her. The purple globe of his knob glistening in the light, he was about to climb onto the bed and impale the girl on it when she stirred and opened her eyes.
