Make It Work

Isa tried ending shit with Seth but his mouth talked her into staying. The scene blew up with pain and pleasure, marks on her ass from his palm, stretch from his finger working her open, nothing gentle about it. Then the precum hit her tongue, thick and clean, cock thick in her throat while spit coated everything. Seth didn’t let up—he slapped her around a little, sunk deep, used her face, wrecked her. At one point he pinched both nipples hard enough to sting and Isa didn’t know if it hurt or turned her on more; all she could feel was his cock forcing past resistance with brute grace. Three whole fingers stuffed inside her and the feeling turned erotic-fine so quick, slappy noise on every thrust, her moaning like the slut she said she didn’t want to be anymore. Gas masks erased the expression on Seth’s face as his crown triggered rush inside her, her core almost turning inside out from the length crossing inside. Rolls of pain, rolls of orgasms sneaking up so intense they blurred out. Eve frolicked between kink compartments—Mesa ass farted hot salt, Mother wore Sylvie like a curl, tight bulls. Seth battered deeper rattling the pictures until his overflow finally burst—no hollow inevitability—filling her, ruining her legs down her insides.