By Chelsey
One girl.
One black masked poet.
Together they moaned as she straddled his hips, and scooted as one, across the floor in bliss. Behind them the Television continued to hiss:
'NO Lightspeed?'
With not even a halt, Chelsey muttered in perfect harmony, "It's NOT my fault." Christian smothered his laughter, silently begging her not to stop.
Explosions, loud, rumbling, accompanied their united passion, reflecting perfectly the implosions going up and around, inside the two bodies, groping together on the ground.
"Cum with ME....it is your DESsssstiny!" Christian groaned with the masked character on the tape.
Chelsey wimpered, then obeyed.