She felt a clinging chill in her blood as he brushed his palm on her soft skin. It was as if he had placed an electrified object in his palms.
Based on the sight before him, how she had been positioned was so spellbinding—her body arched just the right luring mode, perfectly aligned for something darker, something deeper. Her form invited both temptation and surrender. Without hesitation, he raised his hand slightly upwards and laid it down, slapping it firmly on her big, soft, lofty ass. The echo of it filled the room, and a flush of heat bloomed beneath his palm, leaving a crimson imprint like a seal of possession. The sensation rippled through her, not just skin-deep, but into her very thoughts—stirring something primal, something unspoken.
"Bluh... bluh..."
The echo of each strike filled the room, rhythmic and commanding. When his second hand joined the motion, it was like a thief receiving a deadly slap. Her body quivered—not from fear, but from surrender. Each impact sent a wave through her, and yet, beneath it all, a strange satisfaction shimmered in her expression. What she felt wasn't just pain—it was a wild thrill, torture, pleasure, and heat.
But in her heart, she craved more — to be devoured wholly, taken beyond reason. Yet her body, worn and trembling, spoke another language. The sensual pleasure she anticipated turned sharp, veering into an ache that startled her senses. The rhythmic sound erupting from the strike kept bouncing on the wall, echoing around them like a soul unwilling to die.
Then, without hesitation, he surged forward with full intent—not in the gentle manner before, but with unrelenting force. It was as though time skipped a beat. Her breath caught. As his hard rod got swallowed directly into her glorious hole, this time it didn't go in slow motion. What seemed impossible moments before now unfolded in a staggering, overwhelming rush.
"Ahhh... ahhh...!"
Her head pressed into the mattress, face half-buried in the rumpled sheets as he pounded her from behind with rough, relentless force. Her earlier moans had shifted—now her voice cracked, strained and raw, like a wounded gasp slipping from her throat. There was no rhythm to her breathing anymore, just broken cries that sounded like they hurt to make. He wasn't slowing down. He didn't ease up.
The bed creaked violently under their weight, jerking with each hard thrust and releasing a metallic sound as the spring compressed. Her body tensed and curled in on itself, trying to endure the pressure and pace. Her hands gripped at the sheets, knuckles white, back arching against the motion. Tears and sweat spilled down her face—not from pleasure, but from the overwhelming sting, both physical and emotional. Her breath came in short, shallow bursts, her voice hoarse and fading, like it was being squeezed out of her. Her body seemed well overwhelmed by the sweat, like she'd just been pulled from a pool.
Her legs trembled uncontrollably beneath her, collapsing more with every second, like she was struggling to stay upright in the middle of a tremor. She didn't know how much longer she could take it. Her body wasn't just reacting—it was shutting down, locking up, too overwhelmed to do anything else.
His thrust became more and more vigorous as he felt something trying to ooze out of him. His face became so venomous, his eyes widened as he gripped his teeth like metal. As he was about to load in, her inner self released a massive liquid, bigger and more endless than the ones she had had. It was like a moment of peace. Then, he withdrew and placed it on the gap between her ass, which seemed like the path at which a river flows in between mountains.
The tip of his rod slammed her skin hard enough to break a coconut into two. Then, against her lower back, the relentless liquid that had been held with a tight force got released with a forceful rush. It splashed on her skin in a thick and warm texture, trailing down the curve of her spine in uneven streaks. His body twitched with each pulse, as his waist trembled as the liquid flowed.
At the same time, her body clenched one last time. A strained gasp escaped her glorious hole—part exhaustion, part tension, part something she couldn't even name. She felt herself give in, not just physically but emotionally. What had started with heat ended in silence, broken only by the sound of breathless, shuddering exhales. A mix of finality and regret settled over her, heavy and real.
His body went limp as the robe became soft, weak, and dried, collapsing onto the bed beside her with a dull thud, like a dropped weight. His chest, filled with sweat and spots of different sources of fluid, began to rise and fall heavily. As his limbs sprawled out without care, drained and motionless.
"Haa... what a day..."
The sweet, breathy silence became congested with his voice. It was heavier, louder, and more unstable than it needed to be. The weight it carried was like a crack in the stillness.
He turned his head, eyes falling on her. She hadn't moved—still lying there in the same position, her back exposed, her breathing uneven and shaky. For a moment, a flicker of guilt crossed his face. Her body looked exhausted, worn out. But then, his lips curled into a quick smirk, almost involuntary, watching the way her breath left her like she was barely hanging on.
The curtains shifted slowly, swaying in a soft, tired motion as the heat that had built up in the room began to fade like smoke. A cool breeze slipped through the small, tiny holes in the windows, brushing over their damp skin, making the air feel lighter—almost cold.
The dim light flickered, casting long shadows that deepened the stillness. The bed beneath them creaked and groaned, the mattress settling under their weight with soft, foamy compression. The frame gave out small metallic clinks and subtle squeaks, a quiet rhythm that filled the silence like echoes of what had just happened.
The room no longer moved with urgency. Now it breathed slow and low, like the final exhale after a long-held battle.