Far from it

"Cum in my pussy daddy" you beg, as your body is now fully outside of your control.

"Pump it in meee-"

Your hands fly to your throat as your voice cracks, the sound twisting higher, lighter. But its too late to stop.

Your own climax crashes over you like a wave—white-hot and suffocating—your back arching off the counter as your thighs tremble violently around his waist.

Every nerve lights up, your vision blurring at the edges while your body locks around him, torn between shoving him away and dragging him deeper. Your thighs clamp around him like a vice, the muscles in your legs trembling with the sheer, **** need to keep him buried inside you—as if your body already knows what’s coming and refuses to let him pull away.

His next thrust punches the air from your lungs, his cockhead grinding against that ruined, swollen spot until your vision whites at the edges. You can feel the way his rhythm fractures, the slick slap of skin turning erratic, his hips stuttering as his grip on your ass tightens to bruising.

"No, no, no," your male brain shouts, but only moans escape your lips.

His groan is thick, ragged - a prayer or a curse, you can’t tell—as his hips jerk forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt. His cock presses fully against your cervix—a deep, unforgiving stretch that makes your vision blur at the edges. You feel the exact moment his tip catches on that tight ring of muscle, the resistance giving way with a wet, shuddering pop as he forces himself deeper still. Your breath comes in jagged gasps, ribs heaving as your body fights to accommodate him, every nerve alight with the cruel friction of being split open.

A choked sound escapes him, something between a growl and a sob, his fingers digging into your thighs hard enough to bruise. You feel the hot, sudden pulse of him deep inside—thick spurts flooding your womb as his cock twitches violently against your cervix.

His hips jerk erratically—once, twice—before he stills, buried to the hilt inside you. A ragged groan tears from his throat when you clench around him—your cunt fluttering in tight, involuntary pulses, milking him with a greed that makes your cheeks burn.

Another shudder rolls through him as warmth floods your core, his release pulsing in sticky spurts that make your walls clench instinctively. His fingers dig harder into your flesh, holding you in place as he grinds through the last of his release, his breath shuddering against your sweat-damp neck. You feel it—the unnatural heat, the way your skin prickles as something shifts beneath it.

The old man’s breath rasps against your ear, thick with the stale tang of cigarettes and sweat. The fingers gripping your hips soften, their roughness thinning into something delicate.

The fluorescent lights hum above, casting stark shadows as your legs tremble, still locked around him. His weight presses you harder against the counter, the laminate cool and unyielding against your back.

He finally pulls back—slow, deliberate—your body clinging to him with a wet, soft sound. Your thighs tremble as they fall open, limp and shaking, the muscles slack but still twitching with the aftershocks. His cum leaks out of you in thick, sluggish trails, pooling on the counter beneath your hips where the laminate sticks to your skin.

His fingers trail down your trembling belly, smearing sweat and slick between your skin as he watches your body twitch with oversensitivity. A rough chuckle escapes him when you flinch—his thumb pressing hard into the dip of your navel, circling the swollen curve of your stomach where his release still sits heavy inside you.

The air reeks of sex and salt, the fluorescent buzz overhead flickering just as his grip tightens again, yanking your hips forward until the counter bites into your lower back. You gasp—half-protest, half-moan—as he drags two fingers through the mess between your thighs, gathering the sticky proof of his claim before pressing them against your parted lips.

Your lips part instinctively, the taste of salt and musk flooding your tongue as his fingers press insistently past your teeth. A whimper vibrates in your throat—weak, protesting—but your tongue betrays you, curling around his knuckles to suck the sticky residue clean. He watches aroused as your cheeks hollow around his fingers.