Emiko takes him with her mouth

The sound of gunfire and explosions faded away, replaced by the pounding of his heart, the rush of blood in his ears, the sound of her soft moans into his mouth. The world outside, the war, the chaos, it all melted away, leaving only the two of them, lost in their own private world of passion and desire.

Serrano pushed her down onto his cot, his body covering hers, his weight pressing her into the thin mattress. She gasped, her eyes wide, her lips parted in surprise, but she didn't resist, didn't protest. Instead, she spread her arms out, allowing him access to her body, still encased in the pristine white of her wedding dress, its tail overflowing onto the ground, now stained with the dust and grime of the frontlines.

"I've been waiting for this for years," she whispered, her voice barely audible, her breath hot against his cheek. "I'm your bride tonight, Tomas. Your blushing, virgin bride to sully."

She was his, all his, and he intended to claim her, to make her his in every way possible. He wanted to possess her, to make her scream his name, to make her his, forever. He wanted to wipe every memory of every other men that ever had her from her body, from her soul. He didn't care about the past, about the vows, about the broken promises.

He tore at her wedding dress, the dress that she married Julián Reyes in, the fabric ripping under his hands, exposing her smooth, pale skin. She was perfect, flawless, her body a work of art, a masterpiece that he couldn't resist. His was brutal, making sure every thread was torn, shredding the wedding dress into pieces, as though it could erase the wedding from history.

After he was done destroying it, he stood up, gazing at his finished masterpiece. Her beautiful, alabaster breasts, her perfectly sculpted body, her tiny waist, and her delicate pussy. He wanted to worship her, to taste her, to make her scream. He wanted to be inside her, to feel her warmth, her wetness, her tightness.

She lay beneath him, her eyes wide, her pupils blown with desire, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. Her body was a canvas, and he was the artist, intent on painting it with his touch, his kiss, his need.

He ran his hands over her skin, feeling the softness, the warmth, the life that pulsed beneath. Her skin was like silk, smooth and flawless, unmarred by time or age. She was a goddess, a creature of beauty and desire, a woman that he had longed for, had dreamed of, for so long.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her neck, the sensitive spot behind her ear, then the hollow of her throat. She shivered, her body responding to his touch, her breaths coming in short gasps. His tongue traced patterns on her skin, leaving trails of fire that burned into her soul. She was his, and he was hers.

His hands moved lower, caressing her breasts, his fingers teasing her nipples that were already hard and erect, begging for his touch, his kiss. He took one into his mouth, his tongue circling the hard peak, sucking, nibbling, drawing a moan of pleasure from her lips. His other hand continued to explore, sliding down her stomach, feeling the muscles tense under his touch, his fingers tracing circles, her soft belly twitching and fluttering under his ministrations.

"Ahhh... yes... that's the spot, Tomas." Emiko cooed, her voice filled with desire, with need. She was lost in him, lost in the sensations that he was awakening in her body, the fire that was burning between them. "I've never met a man as gentle as you."

She was lying of course. Despite being the picture of innocence, she had been fucked in every manner, in every way possible, by dozens of different men. She had been used and abused, fucked and dominated, worshipped and adored, had fucked and been fucked, but this time, it felt different. It felt special. It felt like love.

The thought of his goddess being defiled by another filled the General with rage, and he pulled back from her, his eyes ablaze with jealousy. He grabbed her hair, pulling her head towards him, their eyes locked in an intense gaze.

"Mine," he growled, his voice low, possessive, filled with a primal need. "You're mine now."

"Yes, yours," she responded, her voice barely more than a whisper, her eyes wide, her lips parted in a silent plea.

"Only mine."

"Only yours."

He released her hair and grabbed her arms, pinning her down to the cot, his body covering hers, his weight pressing her into the thin mattress. He kissed her then, hard, his tongue invading her mouth, his teeth nipping at her lower lip, claiming her as his own. She responded with equal fervor, her tongue meeting his, her body arching up into his, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh.

The sounds of their passion filled the tent, the rustle of his rough clothes on her soft skin, the soft gasps and moans, the heavy breathing, the pounding of their hearts, all of it blending together into a symphony of desire. The scent of their arousal hung heavy in the air, mingling with the smells of the jungle, the camp, the war. It was a heady mix, a potent cocktail that fueled their lust, their hunger, their need.

As their kiss broke apart, strands of saliva still connecting them, Emiko panted with desire, her eyes batting at him coyly.

"Let your bride please you, my love," she cooed, her voice soft and seductive.

Serrano released her, and the two of them quickly shed their remaining clothes, him taking off his military uniform, her swiping off the remains of her wedding dress, before their bodies came together in a tangle of limbs and desires. There was no turning back, no regrets, no doubts.

He stood by the bed, and she laid on her stomach, her face perfectly level with his crotch, his erect penis standing proud and throbbing, a bead of precum leaking out of it. She lowered her head, her lips finding his cock, landing soft kisses on its tip, feeling it twitch. She took it into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the tip, her lips stretching to accommodate his size. Her mouth was hot, her tongue was soft, her lips were tight. She took him, inch by inch, her cheeks hallowing as it sealed his cock in, airtight.

He groaned, his eyes never leaving the sight before him, her eyes glancing up to meet his. They looked into each other's eyes, her hands moving up to meet his, their fingers interlocking, a connection formed, an unbreakable bond. She was his, and he was hers.

He started to move his hips, slowly at first, his cock sliding in and out of her mouth, her tongue lapping at the underside of his shaft. Her moans were muffled, her breath hot against his skin. She could taste his precum, salty and thick, coating her tongue, filling her mouth with his essence. It was a taste she had missed, a taste that was unique to every men she ever tasted.

His thrusts were gentle, as though afraid of hurting her, his cock pushing deeper with each stroke, until her nose pressed against his pelvis. She could feel his cockhead hit the back of her throat, her gag reflex kicking in, but she fought it, relaxing her throat muscles, allowing him to take her, to use her, to fill her.

He fucked her face slowly, watching as she took his length, her eyes watering, her face flushed, her body trembling with desire. Her hands squeezed his, their fingers still interlocked, his fingers gentle yet firm. She could feel his cock throb and twitch, feel every vein rubbing against the insides of her wet, velvety mouth. His scent was strong, musky, a heady mix of sweat and arousal, a scent that filled her senses, that made her body respond, that made her want more, need more.

She wanted to make him feel good, to make him cum. To please her husband of tonight, the man of her dreams, the man who had always treated her with respect. She wanted to show him that he was the only man who mattered to her, that no other man could ever compare, that he was her everything. She wanted to worship him, to adore him, to make him feel like the king that he was.

She looked up at him, her eyes pleading, her lips stretched around his cock. He met her gaze, his eyes filled with desire, with lust, with love. He started to fuck her face harder, his hips thrusting with more ****, his cock hitting the back of her throat with each stroke. She moaned around him, her tongue flicking against his shaft, her saliva coating his cock.

"Fuck, Emiko," he groaned, his voice hoarse, his breathing ragged.

"Ggh..ghhh...ghh," she replied, her angelic face contrasting with the sloppy, depraved sounds coming out of her mouth. Her eyes started tearing, her chin wet with her saliva and his precum, dripping down to her neck. She tried her best to smile at him as he used her throat like a fleshlight, but the way her lips were tightly stretched made it impossible to do so. All she could do was to stare at him with her eyes, her pupils dilated, showing him the immense pleasure she got from having his cock violate her throat.

Her hands tightened around his, their grip strong, their connection unbreakable. She could taste his precum, thicker and more copious now, filling her mouth, coating her throat. She could feel his cock throb and pulse, could feel his climax building, his hips moving faster, his thrusts becoming more erratic. She wanted him to cum, to fill her mouth, to coat her tongue with his seed, to mark her as his own. She needed him to cum, to give her his essence, to make her his.

He fucked her face faster, his hips slamming against her face, his cock hitting the back of her throat, her throat bulging with his girth, the sloppy sounds growing ever wetter, ever louder. Her body trembled with need, her clit throbbing, her pussy aching, her juices dripping down her thighs. Her moans were muffled, her breath wheezing. She was his, and he was hers.

His cock swelled in her mouth, his balls tightening, his body tensing, his climax imminent. He looked down at her, his eyes burning with lust, his voice hoarse, "I'm going to cum, Emiko," he groaned, his words strained with his effort, his pleasure. "I'm going to cum in your mouth. Swallow every drop. Show me what a good bride you are."

She nodded, her eyes watering with tears, her mouth full of his cock, her throat stretched around his girth. She was ready for him, ready to take his cum, to swallow it all, to make him happy, to make him feel good.

With a final, powerful thrust, he buried his cock deep in her throat, his cock pulsing, his cum spurting out in thick, hot jets, filling her mouth, coating her throat. She swallowed, her throat muscles working, her mouth filling with his seed, his taste, his scent.

She swallowed again, and again, his cum filling her belly, his essence marking her as his own. He groaned, his body shaking, his hips twitching as he emptied his load into her mouth. She took it all, swallowing every drop, her eyes never leaving his face, her hands squeezing his with each new wave of cum flooding her stomach. It seemed to go on forever, Emiko feeling her belly stretch to accommodate the liquid. The general was truly gifted, as she had suspected.

Finally, he was spent, his cock slowly softening in her mouth, his breathing heavy, his body slumped forward. She gently pulled back, his cock slipping from her mouth, her lips wet, her chin coated. She licked her lips, savoring the taste of him, the feel of his cum on her tongue. She could taste his strength, his virility, his power.

She looked up at him, her mouth open, a sizeable pool of his cum still in her mouth. She felt used, dirty, defiled, yet loved and cherished. She had pleased him, worshipped him, adored him, made him cum, made him feel good. She had given herself to him, and he had taken her, claimed her, made her his own. It was a moment of pure, unbridled passion, of raw, primal need, of love and desire and hunger. She swirled her tongue around in the liquid, letting him see it, before swallowing it all.

"I love you, Tomas," she murmured, her voice hoarse, her throat sore. "I'm your woman, now and forever."

He leaned down, cupping her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears from her eyes. He kissed her softly, gently, his lips brushing against hers, his tongue licking away the remnants of his seed from her mouth. He tasted himself on her, tasted his own essence, his own desire.