I Wanted It All Fucking Day

I wriggle my hips suggestively as if I can't wait, and then my eyes dart to the glock still in his hand. The wet tip of his cock probes my opening. He smacks one bare cheek than the other. In the back of my primal brain, I think I hear the hostages hurried footsteps. But that's so fast. This is the last good fuck he'll probably ever get, after all.