Eve

That first thrust when you’ve been long without cock.

The way it pierces, your body reluctant. The way you give, spreading and softening and inviting.

When he reaches the end of you, the shivery feeling of acceptance and anticipation of the ease of the next thrust.

It’s all pleasure between.

Arched backs, overwhelming sensation, being taken and used and pleasured.

Building, building, building until you give way.

To squeeze him tight or just hold him snug as your cunt explodes in pleasure…

To have him pull out, his cock wet with your juices and you spent as he hovers over you.

You want his come inside you, but watch with breathless anticipation as he tugs.

Long pulls, the skin giving even as he remains hard as steel. The thrust of his hips as he stares down at you, in your eyes and then at your wet cunt.

His long moan as he comes.

The heavy feel of his come as it lands on your skin. The weight of such pearlescent liquid, warm on your breasts, your stomach, your thighs…

He paints your lips with the drops remaining as a smile lingers on his.

His breaching, his come, his scent on every inch of your skin.

You are marked by him.

A photo of Cara’s torso and breasts in post titled thrust of Christmas Eve

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