Heather glanced at the window again. Fucked by Dylan, and maybe watched by another man. She was so close. She could feel her orgasm building rapidly. Dylan could feel her cunt clenching him as he fucked her. Clenching him tightly. It spurred him on. He hurriedly unbuckled his trousers and dropped them and his boxers to the floor. He felt his naked groin against her. She felt his balls slap against her as he fucked her full of lust and urgency. “Oh god Heather I feel it.” “Cum inside me now Dylan!” Heather's tone was urgent rather than demanding. She felt her own orgasm start to break. Waves of pleasure rippling along her body. She pushed back hard against Dylan's thrusts, cumming around his cock. Dylan grabbed a hank of hair, pulling her head back. Their lips meeting. As they kissed, Dylan's cock pulsed inside Heather's cunt. Through the mist of her orgasm she felt Dylan's cum inside her. She was oblivious to the sounds he was making. She only knew what she was feeling. As she came. Jane was not yet as experienced a spy as her famous father, James Bond, and did not realize that all of her nervous behavior, instead of keeping her inconspicuous, was actually calling attention to herself. Fortunately, Wendy Warmcox was too absorbed in savoring her own gourmet Viennese dinner, and in her daydreams about tasting (not to mention licking, sucking, and swallowing whole) her husband’s enormous 10-inch shaft for dessert, to notice Jane Bond’s dinner-time antics. Leaving Wendy to finish her dinner, Jane returned to her hotel room. The red light on her radio receiver was lit, indicating that someone had entered the now heavily-bugged Suite 69. Since Wendy Warmcox was still downstairs enjoying her dinner, Jane guessed that her target, terrorist arms dealer W, must be in the room. Jane felt her heart start to race, and she assumed that it was because she was so close to catching and stopping this dangerous dealer of death and destruction. As she put her hand on her breast to.
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