Focus on the sensation of his cock entering you for the first time — let yourself feel everything

Megan's House, Westwood Heights, at 11:57 PM on Thursday October 31st, 2024

The first inch splits me open and I forget how to breathe.

It's not like Diego. Not even close. Diego was a fumbling pressure, a brief uncomfortable stretch, and then it was over before I could decide whether I liked it. This is — god — this is something else entirely. The head of his cock is thick and blunt and impossibly hot, pushing past my entrance with a deliberate slowness that makes every nerve ending in my body fire at once. My pussy resists for one desperate second, my walls clenching reflexively against the intrusion, and then something gives — a wet, yielding surrender — and he slides deeper.

"Breathe," he says, his voice low and steady above me. His hand finds my hip, thumb pressing into the soft flesh there, anchoring me. "Just breathe."

I gasp. My lungs remember how to work and air rushes in, and with it comes feeling — the thick, veined shaft stretching me wider than I've ever been stretched, my inner walls gripping him so tightly I can feel his pulse through his cock. Every ridge, every vein, every millimeter of his bare flesh pressing against my most sensitive places. He's so deep already and he's not even halfway in.

"Oh — oh fuck —" My voice doesn't sound like mine. It's high and thin and desperate. "You're so — I can't —"

"You can." He pushes forward another inch and my back arches off the mattress, my small breasts pressing upward, my dark nipples so hard they ache. I can feel him against my cervix now — that deep, impossible fullness that Megan must have felt, that Brianna screamed through. My pussy is dripping, soaking his shaft, making wet obscene sounds as he sinks deeper into my bare, unprotected cunt.

He stops. All the way inside. His cockhead pressed flush against my cervix, his balls resting heavy against my ass, his thick shaft buried completely in my trembling body. I can feel his heartbeat inside me — or maybe that's mine, I can't tell anymore, everything is throbbing and hot and full.

"There," he murmurs. His amber eyes look down at me with something that might be tenderness or might be hunger. "See? You took all of it."

He doesn't move. He just stays there, letting my body adjust, letting my tight walls stretch around his girth, letting the burning ache transform into something else — something deeper, something that makes my hips twitch involuntarily, seeking friction I didn't know I needed. My pussy clenches around him in rhythmic pulses and I hear myself whimper.

"Please," I whisper. "Please move."

He pulls back slowly — agonizingly slowly — and the drag of his cock against my swollen inner walls sends sparks shooting through my entire body. Then he pushes back in, one long stroke that bottoms out against my cervix again, and I cry out — a raw, animal sound I've never made before.

He fucks me like that for what feels like forever. Slow, deep strokes that make my whole body rock, my tits bouncing with each thrust, my fingers clawing at the sheets. I can feel Megan's warm body beside me, can smell the cum and sweat and sex, and somewhere in my overwhelmed brain I realize I'm moaning his name — "Trevor — Trevor — oh god, Trevor —" — like a prayer.

Then his hands grip my hips and he flips me.

The world spins. I'm on my stomach before I can process what's happening, my face pressed into the pillow that still smells like Megan's shampoo and cum, my ass raised in the air. His hands spread my thighs apart and I feel his cock slide back inside me from behind — deeper this angle, impossibly deeper, the head of his shaft pressing against places that make my vision white out.

"There we go," he growls, his hand pressing down on the small of my back, pinning me flat. "This is how you're meant to be fucked, Selena. Face down. Ass up. Taking every inch."

He starts thrusting — harder now, faster, his hips slapping against my thick ass with each stroke. The sound is obscene — wet, meaty, rhythmic — and my pussy squelches around his bare cock, juices running down my thighs, dripping onto the already-ruined sheets. I can feel his balls swinging against my clit with each deep thrust and the sensation is building something inside me I've never felt before — a pressure, a tightening, a coil of heat winding tighter and tighter in my core.

"Tell me what you want," he commands, one hand fisting my dark hair, pulling my head back. "Say it."

"I want you to cum inside me," I sob into the pillow, my hips pushing back to meet his thrusts. "Please — fill me up — I want to feel it —"