"Please... kill me," she whispered, the words brittle but deliberate.
Her face changed—no longer caught in pleasure but shaped by something raw and almost defiant. There was nothing flirtatious in her tone; it was serious, intense. Like a final request spoken on the battlefield. Her gaze didn't waver, even as her body trembled beneath him. But her words didn't move him the way she expected. He didn't flinch, didn't slow down. Whatever control she thought those words might give her—they didn't. He was still holding the moment, and he wasn't ready to let it go.
A groaning smurf sound filled the air as she pressed, squeezed, and mashed her melons in a swift manner. His touch was no longer gentle; it was raw and deliberate. Her breath hitched, and her body responded without hesitation. Her head tilted back sharply, eyes rolling, leaving only the whites visible. It was like her body had taken over—caught between pleasure and complete surrender.
"Please!... devour… me…"
Her voice cracked, rising like a desperate demand and a plea at once. The emotion in her tone was impossible to mistake, a cocktail of rage, need, and exhilaration. Her body surged forward, hips pressing against his, not with hesitation but hunger. That was the moment he knew—she wasn't just submitting. She wanted this more fiercely than he did. Whatever hesitation or control he thought he had, she shattered it in a second. Her need wasn't passive; it was urgent, primal, and unashamed.
A sharp tug echoed through the room, causing the curtains to flutter wildly as if caught in a sudden gust. The air thickened, charged like the calm before a storm breaking loose.
He moved forward with purpose, with each step driven by urgency. His body pressed close, the heat between them undeniable. He dashed forward. His rod, raised high, hard, and long, so long that it was nearly similar to that of a horse-like rod. On its surface, thick lines ran across it, twisting and pulsing like the roots of an ancient tree.
The moment her eyes landed on it, her mind spiraled—wild, chaotic. A rush of panic surged through her, and for a heartbeat, she almost wanted to pull away, to run.
'No! No! I can't take it… it won't fit…'
Her thoughts scattered, frozen like a boulder dropped into a rushing river. But it wasn't just hesitation — it was his deliberate touch that held her still. He traced the slick, sensitive skin between her thighs with slow, teasing strokes, and he brushed the entrance of her glorious hole in gentle, measured motions. He could feel her heart pounding—wild and erratic—right under the place he grazed.
Her voice broke free, turning into desperate screams, pleading with him to thrust it in, even as confusion tangled her mind. These weren't just cries; they were thunderous roars from the depths of her soul—raw, urgent, and impossible to ignore.
"Should I stop…?"
He spoke calmly, but his methodical, purposeful up-and-down glides gave the impression that he was not. He measured the tremor in her waist and thighs and the way her breath caught as he observed her reactions to each pass. He already knew the answer; therefore, a smirk appeared on his face due to the tension in the air as well as the power he possessed. Even if she said no, the look in her eyes told him there was no stopping now. The line had already been crossed, and the only direction left was forward.
"I need it badly… please, put it in…"
Her moans grew louder, desperate pleas trembling in each breath. The lips between her thighs quivered, pulsing like the steady hum of an engine revving to life. The teasing alone sent waves of heat coursing through her body, building her arousal higher than before. Then, like a second revelation, another wetness surged from her—clearer, richer—oozing from her depths as he rubbed the surface. The scent was distinct, sweeter, filling the air with a heavy, intoxicating warmth that made the room feel even more alive.
Then he thrust forward, the tip sliding in slowly and steadily, as if he had been waiting for that second flood of wetness to give him the green light. She felt the warm texture of skin easing inside her, like the sun gradually spreading its glow over a new day. Then, she moved her body closer, wanting more, trying to take him deeper. But despite her effort, the sheer size of his rod held her back—there was no going any further, not yet.
The smile on his face darkened, more sinister now, fully aware that only a third of his length had entered her.
"Mmm… ahhh…"
Her lips parted, breath hitching as her eyes rolled back. Her body trembled uncontrollably, aching to take more, pushing forward desperately to feel him deeper.
"Mmm… ahh… I can feel it deep inside me…"
She tried to steady herself, holding onto focus, strength, and control, but the depth of what she felt shifted her perspective. She believed she had taken all of him, unaware that only a small part had actually entered her hidden depths. Her expression shifted when she caught the smile on his face—something dark, almost unreadable. A sharp edge of confusion and frustration crept in, and with quiet intensity, she asked him—not out of disrespect, but with a pointed seriousness
"Is there still more…?"
Her eyes widened in surprise, cheeks flushing deep red. Even the surface skin around her glorious pie darkened with the rush of heat.
Seeing her eyes dart wide with shock, he pushed in deeper with another powerful thrust. This time, her body jolted—she nearly collapsed, her breath too thin to chase even a whisper in the air. Not a single piece of his rod remained outside, only skin pressed to skin, no space between. The curtains soared, raised higher and higher than ever. It was almost as if he had reached the arteries of her heart, her pulse drumming vividly against the surface of his rod. The beating rate was imperfectly in sync.