Her praise keeps his flush pink and delicate across his face, he beams at her as she moves over him, and his heart jumps and skips as she giggles with her joy. Melitele she is...so beautiful. She draws that unyeilding black phallus over his cock and then murmurs as she sinks into him.
His smile falls away into an expression of silent, overwhelming, consuming sensation. He looks pained but the way his hips arch and press toward hers, the way his hands reach and grab at her arms, at her hips, at anything he can graze hands over--those are not at all the actions of a man in pain. His moan is low and loud and, if this is his reaction to the first slow thrust, there is no chance that anyone in this building or the next will not know how well she fucks him.
It was almost a pity he'd been smothered by her mouth when he last came, he was so given to dramatics, but he does not regret the silence in his last orgasm.
Her hips come up against the back of his thighs and his fingers claw at the sheets, holding tight as he adjusts to the size and stretch of her cock. Fuck--fuck--it is bigger than he is used to, it had not seemed so when he looked at it, but it had been some time since he had seen a cock that was not his own. It was easy to forget that he was large, apparently, and that something larger than him would drive all sense from him.
The muscles in his stomach flutter, convulse just slightly as he acclimates, and he exhales a voiced sigh once he's ready. His breath shakes and he thinks, with a hoarse chuckle, that it is funny.
"It feels like your cock is in my throat, love," he muses, dazed and driven to distraction. "Fuck, please, please--"
He doesn't even know what he wants, for her to grind into him or draw out and drive in. He wants everything, all of it, and he is losing his words.
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His smile falls away into an expression of silent, overwhelming, consuming sensation. He looks pained but the way his hips arch and press toward hers, the way his hands reach and grab at her arms, at her hips, at anything he can graze hands over--those are not at all the actions of a man in pain. His moan is low and loud and, if this is his reaction to the first slow thrust, there is no chance that anyone in this building or the next will not know how well she fucks him.
It was almost a pity he'd been smothered by her mouth when he last came, he was so given to dramatics, but he does not regret the silence in his last orgasm.
Her hips come up against the back of his thighs and his fingers claw at the sheets, holding tight as he adjusts to the size and stretch of her cock. Fuck--fuck--it is bigger than he is used to, it had not seemed so when he looked at it, but it had been some time since he had seen a cock that was not his own. It was easy to forget that he was large, apparently, and that something larger than him would drive all sense from him.
The muscles in his stomach flutter, convulse just slightly as he acclimates, and he exhales a voiced sigh once he's ready. His breath shakes and he thinks, with a hoarse chuckle, that it is funny.
"It feels like your cock is in my throat, love," he muses, dazed and driven to distraction. "Fuck, please, please--"
He doesn't even know what he wants, for her to grind into him or draw out and drive in. He wants everything, all of it, and he is losing his words.