[I listened to "I Want To" by Rosenfeld while writing this. ]
Could a man die from being too hard?
Even after just having orgasmed a minute ago, Gael felt the strong urge to be inside Angela. He was still impossibly hard as he glanced her way. She was stroking her thighs like she didn't know what to do with her hands. If she'd ask him, he'd certainly know what to do with them. Her hands belong to him—on his body, preferably on his cock—so were those pretty red lips.
She turned to him with a smile on her face and met his stare, unaware of the devilish ways he thought of her just now. He knew Angela was bold—naughty even. She just chose when to show it, and most of the time, she showed it behind closed doors. In this case, inside the car. Fûck. Just the thought of her mouth on him again made his cock twitch. Indeed she was bold, but what she did earlier still surprised him.
But no fûckin' complaints there. Nope.
