Ségolène was burning to take him, almost with rage, right there, at the front of the door. Directly. Would not resist it. She lifted the tail of his jacket. Strengthfully. Arnaud turned back with interrogating eyes, tried a smile. Quite hot what she was doing to him, so he thought. Then he went back to probe the key lock when woosh she did push her pubis against his buttock. He was wearing his rough coarse blue jeans blue as always. Never has she ever been that much excited of her whole life. So began the rugging. She wanted his arse so bad, all for her, exactly in her own sex of hers. Her clitoris lighted up in flames with so much exuberance that she felt its mammoth shape. She began to hit her pelvic bone against his coccyx, harder and harder, rugged him. He should have had sensed it in his petty guts. A gasp of spasms tousled in her, revealing to herself a clitoris at a place unknown from the public, in the back scene, behind the curtains. Was it that big? Was it spreading that far on each side? She has never felt that much sexual. Craving to roll a young man in her clit. What a serendipity, he was there, him, with his tail and his coarse rough. She reeled his ass, thrusting her hips, scraped him, grinded him and soon enough she would scrub him out.
It has been a gorgeous day, a sunny afternoon. The evening was already promising, it was making her cheerful since she’d certainly strapon him.