I was on top for some furious Fetish Phone Sex, riding him into my luxurious couch – a gift from a previous boy treating me to his hard-earned bank account – with my hands on his shoulders, his on my hips, my tits bouncing into his face and a hunger in my eyes. He held my tight slim body against him, sliding right up my slippery cunt again and again with a sense of desire I simply couldn’t help but take pride in during the greatest heat of sex. I was in an animalistic state, following his directions, grinding myself onto his massive cock, and stretching myself out while struggling to breathe. Later I knew he’d call my efforts cute and bouncy, but right that moment all I wanted him to call them was fucking primal. Unlike his wife, girlfriend, and bitchy exes I wanted to give him exactly what he needed and nothing less, just Hardcore Phone Sex. I was begging for him to let me show him the best time of his life and I was so greedily horny when he agreed. Soaking is one word to call folds so wet they made squishy sounds when I moved. If he had second thoughts at that point I’d have told him it was too late. He couldn’t lift my fat ass hard enough to stop me from fucking at that point, there was no return and he knew it as well as I did. All I wanted from him was to keep stuffing my cunt so full of cock I’d be able to taste his cum when he shot off. He lifted his hands from my hips to grab and squeeze my tits, comparing them to his wife’s no doubt, and by the glint of joy in his eyes, finding them an amazing replacement. They’re grand, overwhelmingly shapely, and sizable to match. They’re unfair, and I’m a whore, not a slouch. My tits are elastic, bouncy, and worth fucking until they’re red, sore, and covered in a potent stream of cum. If after this I wasn’t in store for Big tit fucking, I was gonna be sorely disappointed.