Aftercare

Kurt collapsed beside Lena and pulled her into his arms. She curled up against his chest, still trembling from the brutal fucking, her body covered in a light sheen of sweat. He stroked her hair gently, one hand slowly rubbing her back in soothing circles.

Lena sighed happily, nuzzling closer. Her fingers trailed down his stomach until they wrapped around his softening cock. She started stroking him slowly, lovingly, almost absentmindedly while they lay together.

“Remember that girl on stage tonight?” she whispered, voice soft and warm. “The one the bull completely wrecked… the way her belly swelled when he pumped all that cum into her… I couldn’t stop thinking about it while you were fisting me.”

Kurt chuckled, kissing the top of her head. “You got so wet watching that. I felt it.”

“I did,” she admitted, giving his cock a gentle squeeze. “It was so brutal… but the way you held me tonight, the way you talked to me first… that felt even better.”

She kept stroking him with slow, tender strokes, her thumb brushing over the head every few seconds. There was no rush, no pressure to get him hard again — just the simple pleasure of touching him while they talked.

“I haven’t had a night like this in years,” Kurt said quietly, his fingers tracing patterns on her bare shoulder. “Just… talking. Being with someone who actually sees me. Not just a body to use. It’s been lonely.”

Lena tilted her head up to look at him, eyes soft. Her hand never stopped its gentle rhythm on his cock.

“You’re not lonely tonight,” she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his chest. “And if you’ll have me… you don’t have to be lonely anymore.”

They stayed like that for a long time — tangled together, her slow loving strokes and quiet conversation filling the dark bedroom with something neither of them had felt in years: real connection.