“I’ve heard of something called a… mating press?”

Emily felt the tension humming off him—hot, nervous, crackling between their bare bodies. Her folds were slick against his shaft, teasing every pulse of his cock as she rocked her hips, slow and deliberate. She hadn’t pressed him for an answer right away. She gave him time to breathe, to recover, to want—and now he did.

His hands trembled slightly where they rested on her thighs. His voice came quiet, almost like he was unsure he was allowed to say it.

“I’ve heard of something called a… mating press?”

That pulled a flicker through her—surprise first, then heat. Not just arousal but satisfaction. Goddamn.

Her brows arched. Her smile shifted—less playful, more dangerous.

“Well,” she said, voice low and pleased, “you’ve definitely been watching the right things.”

Eli swallowed but held her gaze, his cock twitching between them. He looked flustered, but he meant it.

Emily leaned in and kissed him—slow, with tongue, with purpose—then slid off his lap in one smooth, practiced motion, giving him room. She shifted backward across the bed, her hair falling in waves as she stretched out on her back.

Her legs opened, knees bent, thighs glistening with arousal. She tilted her hips and gave him that look—the one that said yes, the one that invited.

“Come here,” she said, voice velvet. “We’ll work up to it.”

He moved between her legs, breath shaking. His cock was flushed, slick, eager. She reached down and helped him line up, brushing him through her folds once, twice, letting him feel the heat of her.

“Start in me. Missionary. Just get used to the feel of being inside.”

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice low and warm, a little breathless already. “You’ve never done this before, so go slow. You take your time, understand?”

He nodded quickly, breath catching as she stroked the head of his cock along her entrance again. Her eyes fluttered briefly at the contact, and she tightened her grip gently.

“You’re…” she exhaled, a smile tugging at her lips. “You’re pretty—ahh—pretty big, Eli. Some girls might not be ready for your—”

She paused, gasped as the tip started to slip inside her.

“—your goddamn cock.”

Her head fell back against the pillow as he pressed forward slowly, and she groaned low in her throat. Her legs shifted wider to accommodate him, but even then, the stretch made her body twitch.

He froze. “Too much?”

“No,” she panted, eyes fluttering half-closed. “It’s just—fuck, baby, that’s good. Just slow. Keep going, just like that.”

He sank deeper, and she could feel every inch forcing her open. Her pussy clung to him already, slick and tight and ****, and he hadn’t even bottomed out yet.

“Holy shit,” she muttered, her hands gripping his back. “You’re fucking thick—ahh—I can feel you everywhere.”

He groaned, the sound shaky, overwhelmed.

“Deeper,” she urged, voice soft but firm. “Give it to me.”

He buried himself to the hilt, and Emily let out a long, high moan, thighs trembling around his hips.

“That’s it,” she gasped. “That’s so fucking good…”

He started to move, tentative at first, short thrusts that made her body jolt beneath him. Her walls were already fluttering, the sensation of him inside her raw and perfect. She kissed him, messy and hot, her tongue dragging against his as she tried to hold herself together.

But she was slipping.

“Okay—okay—stop a sec,” she whispered against his cheek, panting. “Gonna… show you something.”

She slid her hands down to her thighs, pulling her knees back toward her chest, and then guided his hands to hold them there.

“This,” she gasped, “is the mating press.”

Eli looked down at her, totally lost in the sight—her legs folded up, her pussy stretched tight around his cock, her chest heaving, nipples hard, sweat beading on her flushed skin.

“Now fuck me,” she moaned. “Like this. Hard.”

He did. And everything unraveled.

The new angle shoved him deeper—too deep—and her voice broke as she cried out. Her body rocked beneath him with every thrust, her hands scrabbling at his back, her thighs trembling violently in his grip.

She tried to speak, but it was a mess—moans tangled with breath, her brain shorting out with each sharp, perfect slam of his hips.

“Fuck, Eli—ahh—it’s so much—don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop—”

Her body was slick with sweat, her hair stuck to her skin, her mouth open and panting. Her eyes rolled back and she felt herself clench down around him, her orgasm coiling tight, fast, inevitable.

And then she said it.

Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper, and it shook with every thrust.

“This—fuck—fuck—Eli, this position—oh my god—it’s supposed to get a woman pregnant.”

He didn’t slow. If anything, he fucked her harder.

She couldn’t stop herself.

“I’m probably—fuck, I’m probably fertile right now.”

Her voice broke.

“If you wanna—if you wanna breed me—oh fuckfuckfuck—now’s the time—”

She came mid-sentence, her whole body seizing up, screaming into the pillow as her pussy spasmed around his cock. Her vision blurred. Her breath vanished. She heard him bellow her name, felt him jerk hard inside her, hot spurts of cum flooding her pussy as he came deep, deep, deep.

His weight collapsed onto her. She wrapped her arms around him tight, still shaking, still throbbing around him, still full.

And she knew—she’d never forget the sound he made when he came inside her like that.

And if her cycle was where she thought it was… maybe neither of them would forget what came next.