I gripped her hips—hard, bruising, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh just above her ass, guiding her, deepening the rotation until she sobbed, her pussy spasming, gushing a fresh flood of scalding slick that coated my cock, dripped from my balls, soaked the sheets in a puddle of ruin, the scent of her mother-juice overwhelming—sweet, salty, sinful, clinging to my skin like a brand.

Her hair fell forward, a curtain brushing my chest, tickling my skin, clinging with sweat, the scent of her scent—mixing with the musk of her arousal. I reached up, swept it back with one hand, fingers threading through the damp strands, pulling gently to arch her neck, expose her throat, the heat of her skin burning under my palm.

She moaned—raw, devoted—and ground down harder, her waist rotating in wider, slower circles, taking me deeper with every turn, her pussy stretching, clenching, weeping slick that coated my cock, my balls, the sheets in a scalding flood, the wetness dripping down my ass, pooling beneath us.

I cupped her tits—perfect fit in my hands, motherly—thumbs circling her nipples in slow, worshipful strokes, pinching, twisting, rolling the peaks until they ached and leaked, until she sobbed, her pussy clenching so tight I saw stars, the scent of her milk faint but there, mixing with the musk of her cunt.

Her tits bounced in my hands, nipples trapped between my fingers, pulled and twisted until she cried out, her voice breaking on my name, the sound raw and filthy in the quiet room.

Her waist never stopped—rolling, grinding, dancing—a slow, sensual spiral that made her cunt swirl around my cock like a velvet fist, milking me with every turn, sucking me in, releasing me, claiming me again in a rhythm that felt like love made flesh.

The heat of her thighs burned against my hips, the slick of her arousal coating my skin, dripping down my balls, soaking the sheets in a puddle of ruin, the scent of her mother-juice overwhelming—sweet, salty, sinful, clinging to every breath.

I held her there—hands on her waist, cock buried deep, tits in my palms, hair in my fingers—and let her dance.

Let her love me with every roll of her hips, every clench of her cunt, every moan that spilled from her lips like a vow.

Let her ruin herself on me. Let her find herself in me.

And when she finally came—silent, shattering, eternal—her pussy spasming in waves of pleasure that never crested, just built, built, built, I held her through it, kissed her tears, whispered her name like a prayer.

Margaret. My Margaret. Forever.

The moonlight had thinned to a low, bruised silver, spilling across the bed in slanted blades that barely touched her skin. It was just enough light to turn every bead of sweat into a tiny, trembling jewel, just enough to catch the soft slap of my palm against her ass when I struck.

CRACK.

The sound was low, wet, intimate in the hush. Her flesh rippled under the impact, a perfect, round cheek blooming red in the half-dark. She gasped, a sharp, breathy cry that cracked in the middle, her pussy clenching so hard around my cock I had to grit my teeth to keep from coming right then.

CRACK.

Again, on the other side.

CRACK.

Again, harder, the slap echoing off the walls like a heartbeat.

I held her in place with both hands now—iron grip on her waist, fingers sinking into the soft, golden flesh just above her hips, thumbs pressing into the dimples at the base of her spine. She tried to move, to chase the rhythm she wanted, but I locked her there, immobile, impaled, her ass high, back arched, thighs spread wide and trembling.

Then I took control.

Deep. Hard. Fast.

Each thrust was a punishment and a prayer—my cock plunging to the root, balls slapping her swollen clit with a wet smack, the head punching against her cervix until her breath hitched and her whole body shuddered.

Her pussy gushed around me, squirting in hot, helpless jets that soaked my abs, dripped down my thighs, splattered the sheets in scalding puddles. She screamed—raw, shattered, filthy—her voice breaking on every slam, her walls clamping so tight it felt like she was trying to keep me inside forever.

CRACK.

Another slap.

CRACK.

Another. Her ass jiggled, reddened, perfect.

I held her there—waist locked, body pinned, cock pistoning—until her legs shook so hard the bed creaked, until her moans turned into sobs, until her pussy convulsed and she came again, harder, longer, squirting so violently the sheets were drenched, the air thick with the scent of her release.

Then I stopped.

Still.

Buried deep.

She whimpered, whined, hips trying to move, chasing the friction I'd denied her.

I let her.

Released her waist.

And she took control.

Masterful.

She rose up on her knees—slow, graceful, deadly—her pussy clenching around my cock as she lifted, milking me with every inch she pulled away. Her ass flexed, round and full, the red handprints glowing in the low light like brands. She sank back down—slow, deep, perfect—taking me to the root with a wet squelch that made my vision blur.

Then she danced.

Her waist moved like liquid sex—slow, sensual, devastating—hips painting lazy figure-eights, grinding down in deep, rolling waves that made her pussy swirl around my cock like a velvet fist. Her tits bounced—nipples dark and hard, swaying with every rotation, begging for my hands.

Her thighs flexed, muscles rippling under golden skin, the inner flesh slick with her juices, trembling with the effort of controlling the pace.

She was everything I'd expected. More.

Every roll of her hips was art. Every clench of her cunt was worship. Every moan that spilled from her lips was love.

I watched her—couldn't stop—the way her ass jiggled softly with each grind, the way her back arched, the perfect bridge of her spine glowing in the moonlight, the way her hair spilled down her back in damp, golden ropes, clinging to her sweat-slick skin.

She rode me like she'd been waiting decades for this cock. Like she knew exactly how to ruin me.

I flipped her onto her hands and knees in one smooth motion, her body pliant and trembling beneath me, the moonlight painting her skin in silver and shadow as she arched instinctively, presenting herself like a goddess offering her altar.

Her back curved in a perfect bow, the elegant line of her spine glowing under the low light, the dimples above her ass begging for my thumbs.

Her thighs spread wide on the sheets, knees sinking into the mattress, the wetness already dripping from her pussy in thick, creamy strands that stretched and snapped with every shift, pooling beneath her in a sticky puddle of mother-juice.

I knelt behind her, hands gripping her hips—hard, bruising, fingers sinking into the soft, golden flesh, pulling her back until her ass pressed against my thighs.

My cock—giant, veined, angry—stood rigid between us, glistening with her earlier release, the head swollen and leaking, a single bead of precome dripping from the slit to mix with her cream.

She whimpered, pushing back, desperate. "Peter… please… enter that fucking pussy..."

I lined up. The head of my cock nudged her entrance—swollen, puffy, glistening—her lips parting around me like a prayer.

I pushed—slow, deliberate, relentless—watching her cunt stretch around me, the pink inner folds clinging to every ridge, every vein, sucking me in with a wet, filthy schlorp.

Her pussy gushed—thick, white, creamy—coating my shaft in a glistening sheath, dripping down my balls in sticky rivulets, the scent of her musk and cum flooding the air, overwhelming, intoxicating.

In. Out. In. Out.

Each thrust was a cataclysm— I pulled back slow, torturous, until only the head remained, her lips clinging desperately, stretching outward in a lewd, glistening pout, refusing to release even a fraction, cream foaming at the seal.

Then I slammed back in—brutal, deep, complete—the full length of my cock disappearing in one violent plunge, balls slapping her clit with a wet smack, her pussy swallowing me to the root, walls convulsing in shock, gushing a fresh flood of scalding slick that coated my shaft, dripped from my balls, splattered the sheets in filthy puddles.

Her ass jiggled with every thrust—round, full, perfect—the cheeks rippling under the impact, reddening from my grip, bruises blooming under my fingers.

Her back arched deeper, spine bowing, hair cascading down her shoulders in damp, golden ropes that clung to her sweat-slick skin. Her tits bounced beneath her, heavy and free, nipples hard and dark, swinging with every slam, brushing the sheets, leaking faintly with her arousal.

SCHLICK. SCHLICK. SCHLICK.

The sound was obscene, amplified by the quiet room—her pussy squelching around me in loud, greedy slurps, sucking me in with desperate, milking pulls that created thick foam at the base of my cock, bubbling white with every brutal slam, spraying in tiny, scalding arcs when I pulled back, mixing with the water from earlier, running down her thighs in creamy streams, splattering the sheets in sticky puddles.

***

Her pussy clenched—hard, rhythmic, frantic— walls fluttering, spasming, massaging every inch of my invading cock with velvet violence, the inner muscles rippling in waves that traveled from her entrance to her cervix, squeezing him in a living, pulsing fist.

Each thrust made her lips flare—pink, swollen, glistening— clinging to his shaft on the outstroke, sucking him back in on the instroke like they never wanted to let go.

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