Michael gasped for breath when Cleopatra finally pulled her lips from his, though the respite was only cut off by her hands around his throat. He made muffled noises between her breasts. A number of times, at least as recently as that morning, Michael Wells had imagined dying this way. His face buried within a massive valley of cleavage, with a woman riding his cock. Now he was afraid that dream would come true all too cruelly if he didn't satisfy the woman bouncing in his lap.<br/><br/><br/>He turned his head, attempting to move enough to take a nipple in his mouth, if only she'd allow him. Nonetheless, his hands continued to feverishly work her ass, fingers trailing between her cheeks, seeking out her asshole in the hopes she'd enjoy it.