Every lazy grind pulled the thick ridge of his crown along her frontal pussy wall in a heavy, dragging sweep—stretching her slick inner folds outward on the backstroke, then pressing them inward again as he rolled forward.
The hunger burned in them both now—weeks of stolen glances, whispered promises, and frustrated nights exploding into this frantic need.
He picked up speed, the circles turning faster, more insistent, plunging deeper with each rotation, the penetration power surging as he drove in with controlled force, her pussy yielding inch by desperate inch but never quite enough to swallow him whole.
His shaft flexed deliberately mid-motion—thickening for a heartbeat inside her tight channel—making her walls flutter and stretch around the sudden swell before he eased off, only to repeat it on the next slow circle.
