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I hooked my arm around her waist and pulled her up onto the table with me.
She squealed, then laughed, then landed straddling my thigh with her scrubs riding up. The table creaked ominously. Neither of us cared. She kissed me, filthy and wet, and started to grind.
She rode my thigh like she’d been dreaming about it. Her hips rocked in hard, rhythmic circles, her pussy hot and damp through thin cotton, pressing down on my oiled leg. My cock was trapped against her hip, and every time she moved, it dragged against her.
“Oh God, oh God, Mark…”
I got her top up and her bra pushed down and sucked one nipple into my mouth. She gasped and ground harder, clutching my head to her tits.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop, I’m…”
She came on my leg. Shaking, biting my shoulder to keep quiet, her thighs clamped around mine, a long, shuddering orgasm that went on and on while I held her.
Then she collapsed on my chest, panting.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “Eleven years. That was worth it.”
I was throbbing against her hip, desperate. “Claire…”
She lifted her head, looked down at my cock, and climbed off the table.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, laughing, fixing her clothes. “My three o’clock’s here. I’ll owe you.”
“You’ll owe me?”
She kissed me once more, quick and sweet, and left me lying there, harder than I’ve ever been.
Ending 14 of 16: Her Turn. Go back and try a different choice for the full happy ending.