Chapter 81: The Puppeteer’s String (1)
Steve kept driving his hips forward, powerful and full-bodied, as he sank his thick, throbbing length deeper into her soaked, trembling pussy.
She was dripping for him—hot, wet, clenching tightly around every inch he gave her. The deeper he went, the more he lost himself in the overwhelming heat of her.
His hands gripped her thick ass firmly, fingers spread wide, holding her in place over the barrel as he moved, hips clapping against her flesh in a rhythm that grew more fevered—wet, fast, needy.
The sound of their bodies—slick and raw—filled the space around them. He groaned low in his throat, burying more of his hard cock inside her.
Fiona was lost in the sensation as well, her eyes fluttered shut, lips parted as soft, breathy moans escaped her.
Her throat still ached from being stretched around his thick cock, the taste of him lingering, but now he was inside her again—sliding deep into her soaked pussy with hard, relentless thrusts.
Her body quivered, back arched as he filled her over and over, each stroke rougher, faster, dragging a helpless cry from her throat.
The sound of their bodies—wet, frantic—echoed in the air, and Fiona could barely think, could barely breathe.
He drove into her with growing urgency, feeling her slick heat gripping him tight—like her pussy was trying to swallow him whole.
Every inch of his thick cock was buried in her, and still he wanted more.
Her breasts were pressed against his chest, warm and bouncing with each impact, her legs locked tightly around his waist, holding him there—claiming him.