He fills me completely. Stretches me in ways I didn't know I could stretch. I feel him everywhere—pressing against places no one has ever reached.
"Bruno," I gasp.
"I know." His voice is strained. "I know, baby. Give yourself a moment."
I don't move. I just sit there, impaled on him, trying to remember how to breathe.
His hands slide up my sides. Over my ribs. He cups my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples.
I shudder.
"You feel incredible," he says. "So tight. So wet. Like you were made for my cock."
I roll my hips experimentally.
We both moan.
Bruno
She rolls her hips again.
My vision blurs.
Fuck.
I've been with women before. Plenty of them. But nothing—nothing—has ever felt like this.
She's so tight around me. So wet. Her walls grip my cock like she was designed specifically for me. Like her body was built to take mine.
I force my eyes to stay open.
I need to see her.
Antonella sits on top of me, her blonde hair falling around her shoulders in messy waves. Her skin is flushed pink. Her lips are swollen from my kisses. Her green eyes are half-closed, glazed with pleasure.
She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
Her breasts are perfect. Full and round, nipples hard and pink. They bounce slightly as she adjusts her position, and my mouth waters.
I want to taste them again.
I want to taste every inch of her.
"Move," I tell her. My voice comes out rough. Desperate. "Ride me."
She plants her hands on my chest. Her fingers dig into my muscles.
Then she lifts her hips.
Slowly. So fucking slowly.
She rises until only the tip of me remains inside her. Then she sinks back down.
We both groan.
"Faster," I command.
She obeys.