Lyra's crawl was slow, measured, almost delicate, each palm landing flat on the moss with reverent care, her knees barely skimming the ground.
The motion was ritualistic, her pussy dragging on his cock, sucking softly, rhythmically, deliberately seducing his release with every roll of her hips.
She wanted him to lose, her pussy clenching with calculated intent, wetness flooding her thighs, her small breasts bouncing with each movement, nipples stiff and aching.
Lyra – Orgasm Risk: Critical
Seed Status: Strained
HUD Note: Participant voluntarily vulnerable to climax.
Kota gritted his teeth, his balls tight as stone, his cock pulsing with painful need.
Her pussy was too good—too wet, too slow, a delicious torture that tested his restraint.
He slapped her ass once, hard, the sting echoing, her plump cheeks jiggling, a fresh wave of wetness gushing from her pussy.
She moaned into the floor, her voice low and filthy, vibrating through her spine into him.
