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floor and then leaps on me, the mattress whining under his massive frame.

His lips are on mine and his chest presses against my breasts, the rock hardness of his muscular body making me feel as though I’m trapped, and yet I want to be trapped… beneath him, the word trapped doesn’t even make sense.

I dig my fingernails into his broad-muscled back, gripping onto his hardness, his unwavering solidity.

He growls through the kiss, the tips of our tongues clashing together.

I can barely focus on the kiss when he slides his hand up my thigh and clamps down on my sex, grinding the heel of his hand against my lips and my hole and my clit through my underwear. I grind and buck against him, twitching, biting down as my belly surges with warmth.

He growls when I bite onto his lip, but he doesn’t stop.

He pushes my underwear aside and slips his finger slickly inside of me.

“Fuck,” he snarls, leaning back and gazing down at me like I’m putting on a personal show just for him. “Are you going to be a good virgin and come for me? Get your pussy nice and wet for my dick.

“Y-y-yes,” I cry, my words coming with great difficulty.

He works his hand with even more speed, pumping his arm, grinding my clit, and fingering my hole until I can feel all the pressure inside of me gathering like fiery a ball of release, dragging toward my middle.

I buck against his hand, my pussy taking control of my movements.

Beneath the haze of euphoria a voice sings, the voice of the shy virgin I still am, even after all our closeness.

Enjoy this because it’s all you’ll be able to do. Sex will be too much.

I push the voice down, down, focusing instead on the buzzing of my clit. It pulses and my lips throb and then my screams turn choked like I’m dying, but it makes no sense because this is the most alive I’ve ever felt.

I try to cry out but the pleasure is too overwhelming, a whole army of ecstasy shivering through me.

“Fuck, your squirting,” he snarls. “You’re such a good girl, Tess. Keep squirting for me.”

I dig my fingernails into his shoulders, not caring if I draw blood.

And neither does he.

We’re completely lost to the moment, sinking into the unleashing of my pleasure.

I gasp when the orgasm thunders through my belly, spreading light-tipped hands that claw onto every nerve, every inch of me.

He rears up like a bear and stares down, his face hard, his eyes harder.

“Fucking hell,” he growls once the orgasm has passed. “I need to feel how wet with cream your hole is. You better be ready to take this dick, baby. Because I can’t fucking stop now.”

He grabs my bra and yanks at it, the strap cutting into my back for a split second before it snaps and he tosses it onto the floor. He does the same to my panties, tearing them away, panting in his need to be inside of me.

My hole tingles, my womb sending more wetness to my entrance, getting ready to take – or try to take – his entire throbbing length.

“And you,” I moan, pawing at his clothes. “I want to see you.”

He smirks and stands.

“Touch yourself,” he growls as he grabs at his clothes frantically, tearing his shirt so his buttons go pop-pop-pop as the fabric shreds. “Keep that slit nice and wet for me.”

“Like this?” I cry, pressing my middle finger against my clit, shivering as I gaze up at him.

He pauses in his undressing, standing shirtless with his pants hanging around his hips. His stomach is a rock solid mass of muscle, his abs a series of deep-cut lines in his marble flesh, his manhood suggested in the shape of his groin muscles leading to his underwear.

“Yes,” he snarls, feral. “Exactly like that, you obedient little virgin.”

He kicks off his shoes and pulls his pants and his boxers down, stomping nakedly out of them, his cock springing up, all nine-plus inches of it. I gaze at it with even more awe than the last time, at the massive unbelievable size of it, because I know I’m going to take it this time.

I’m going to take all of it.

I hope.

He climbs onto the bed again.

I open my legs, hoping I’m doing it right, praying I’m not making a fool of myself.

“What should I do?” I whimper. “Where should I put my hands?”

“Push those big gorgeous tits together for me,” he growls, propping himself up with one arm as he reaches down with his other hand and grabs his manhood.

“Like this?” I murmur, burying my hands in my breasts and pushing them close.

He groans out a yes as he guides his engorged helm to my hole.

I whimper as I feel him skirting around my hole, painting my already-soaked entrance with his precome, his eyes fixated on my hands toying with my breasts.

I gasp when he pushes forward and pries me open, my hole fluttering as he inches deeper and deeper.

“You’re so big,” I moan, even as my womb sends urgent signals to my hole to let him in.

We need his massive dick, she sings. We need all the seed stowed inside of him. We need to feel how huge and perfect he is.

“You’re so tight and perfect,” he growls. “I knew you would be.”

“Hmmm,” I moan, as he pushes somehow deeper, the massive helm of his cock grinding right up inside of me, touching places I never knew existed before this moment.

He pauses inside of me and we lock eyes.

I can’t play with my breasts anymore.

All I can do is grip onto his massive shoulder muscles, digging my fingernails into his skin, so hard I’m surprised they haven’t broken yet.

He’s buried all the way inside of me now.

My hole screams and quivers.

I can’t do it.

Heck, I knew I wouldn’t be able to.

I knew I’d disappoint him.

Please, no, don’t let it end like…

He smirks. He can feel it.

My hole quivers and widens, a surge of

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