Jane could feel her muscles stretch, flutter, pulse, trying to adjust around him.
And then... her body began to yield.
Not fully. Not yet.
But little by little, her wet heat began to welco him instead of resisting.
The sharp sting dulled into a deep, satisfying pressure that made her gasp in disbelief.
"Ohhhh... oh my God..." Jane whimpered, her head falling back onto the pillow as her body clung to his. "It’s so much... I’ve never felt this full..."
Ross gritted his teeth, clearly holding back. Her walls were gripping him so tightly it was almost unbearable.
Every slow inch he sank inside her was like being swallowed by a velvet furnace.
"You’re so damn tight," he growled softly. "So wet... so perfect."
He finally bottod out, his hips flush against hers.
Jane cried out again, louder this ti, overwheld by the foreign sensation of being completely filled.
She had never felt anything remotely like it before—not even close.
Her husband had been average—small, even—but she’d never known it until now.
Compared to Ross... it was like night and day.
Her inner walls throbbed around him, still adjusting, still learning his size.
Her head was spinning.
She felt stretched, claid, marked in a way that made her toes curl and her chest ache.
There was no more space inside her, and yet she felt like she needed more. More of him.
More of this unbearable fullness. More of everything.
Ross didn’t move right away.
He gave her ti. Gave her space to breathe. He kissed her again—softly, sweetly—as if trying to ground her in sothing more than just lust.
Then, slowly, carefully, he pulled back a little... and pushed in again.
Jane let out a trembling moan, her eyes fluttering shut as her body clenched instinctively.
The slow thrust was asured, deliberate. He wasn’t trying to rush—he was trying to teach her body how to take him.
He set a rhythm—slow, deep strokes that made her feel every single inch.
Her hands clutched at his back now, her nails digging into his skin, not out of pain... but out of desperate, helpless pleasure.
Every thrust sent ripples through her, made her gasp, made her moan, made her legs wrap tighter around him.
Her mind was fogged, consud entirely by the feeling of him inside her.
"I can’t believe... this is happening..." she whispered, her voice trembling. "It’s too good..."
Ross looked down at her, his eyes dark and heated. "You were made for this, Jane. For ."
And as he began to move with a little more depth, a little more certainty, Jane could no longer think, or speak, or rember why she ever hesitated.
There was only the sound of skin eting skin.
Only the sensation of being completely filled.
Only Ross.
And the fire building deep in her core once again.
Jane couldn’t help it—tears welled in her eyes as the pain surged through her.
A soft cry escaped her lips, her fingers digging into Ross’s shoulders in desperation.
It felt like too much—like she was being stretched beyond her limit.
Her body trembled beneath him, every muscle tense, resisting the overwhelming intrusion.
But Ross didn’t stop.
He moved slowly, steadily, each careful thrust ant to guide her through the edge of discomfort.
His breath was hot against her skin, his lips brushing against her jawline as he murmured soothing words she barely heard.
And then—sothing shifted.
The pain, sharp and stinging at first, began to blur at the edges.
Her body, once tight and unyielding, slowly started to relax.
The burning ache gave way to a strange, deep warmth. Her cries turned into gasps... and then into soft moans.
Her hips moved—shyly at first, then with growing need—as her body began to adjust, to want.
Jane opened her eyes, dazed and breathless, as a wave of unexpected pleasure washed through her. It was raw. Intimate. Consuming.
The lines between pain and pleasure blurred, and for the first ti, she felt sothing else rising beneath the surface.
Sothing she didn’t expect.
Desire.
A few breaths later, Jane was completely lost in the waves of pleasure rolling through her.
Her body arched and writhed beneath Ross, each thrust sending sparks of ecstasy through her like bolts of lightning.
Her mind was blank, thoughts drowned out by sensation.
"Ahhhhh..."
"Ohhhhh..."
"Ughhhhh..."
She couldn’t speak—her voice had given way to raw, helpless moans.
Nothing else could escape her lips. It was too much. Too good.
Her pussy pulsed with wild delight, slick and hot and eager, as if it were alive—begging for more, for everything Ross could give.
Pak. Pak. Pak.
The sharp, rhythmic sound of Ross’s hips slamming against her filled the room, joined by their mingled gasps and the wet, obscene noises of their bodies joining again and again.
Ross was in a rhythm now—his rhythm. The kind that only a master lover could maintain.
He tid each stroke with precision, teasing her, pushing her to the brink, then yanking her back only to drive her forward again.
But then, the teasing stopped.
Sothing shifted.
Ross’s breathing grew heavier. His thrusts turned urgent, rough, unrelenting.
He was a man consud, transford into a beast as he took her fully—like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.
Jane clung to him, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, nails scraping down his back.
The friction, the heat, the overwhelming sensation—it was all too much.
"Ross..." she gasped, voice trembling with panic and anticipation, her mind spinning, body burning.
And then she scread his na.
"ROSS!!"
Her orgasm hit her like a storm, tearing through her with wild, uncontrollable force.
Her body convulsed, arching off the bed as if pulled by invisible strings.
Her pussy clamped down on his cock, trembling violently around him, milking him, spasming again and again as the pleasure tore through her.
She had never co like this before—loud, raw, and unrestrained, like a wild spirit finally set free.
Ross groaned loudly, feeling her tighten around him like a velvet vice.
User Comments
0 comments from readers