After a good few minutes of grinding on the Marshal's member, the Marshal's hand had found their way to Guinevera's hips. She relaxed herself, letting the man take control of the reins and slam her down on his aching manhood, her ass cheeks making the favored slap against the Marshal's thighs. But the pace was more than she had expected, and before she knew it, he was off. Stop? in her mind she asked herself. The only one that needs to stop is ... "Oh my!" Guinevera was brought back to reality as the Marshal's initial thrusts once he gained control were harder than she had been grinding him. As hard as the cock in her pussy shift up in various angles and at the same speed, the walls of her pussy countered the sensation, gripping and sliding against the cock with the same intensity, though this wasn't her doing. "Oh, my goodness gracious, Marshal!"<br/><br/>She couldn't believe what was happening to her now. Was this the result of one or two, maybe more, weeks without a woman to relieve the Marshal of his trouser tension. Guinevera had to brace herself by placing her hands behind her and on the abdomen of the man under her, but his thrusts were a bit too much for her. Her sporadic coos and ahhs were her only expressions as she was fucked like never before. Not even the first encounters with the Marshal on a lonely night after he became intoxicated were this intense. Guinevera couldn't think anymore. She couldn't even try to imagine the Marshal as her stand-in husband because at this moment, he wasn't a man. His thrusts were primal, even more than the half-ass cowboys that come in looking for a pussy to fuck. All Guinevera could do was go along for the ride, no matter how much of it felt good or how much of it hurt.