Ramya: Matt fucks me

My entire world narrows to the impossible stretch inside me.

Matt is buried to the hilt, his thick cock so deep I feel the flared head pressing hard against my cervix, dull, breathtaking pressure that radiates up into my spine. His immense weight pins me completely, his soft heavy belly molding around my stomach, broad chest flattening my breasts, hips forcing my thighs wider than they’ve ever been. I try to wrap my long legs around him for some kind of anchor, but his torso is too thick; my heels flail uselessly at his slick sides.

I’m completely impaled, lungs crushed, every breath a shallow gasp around the enormous rod now lodged inside me. The stretch is brutal—a white-hot ring of fire at my entrance where my hymen ruptured, a deep, throbbing ache that makes my vision blur and my thighs tremble uncontrollably. It hurts so much more than I ever imagined, like I’m being split open from the inside out, my virgin walls screaming around his impossible girth.

My nails rake down his back, leaving red trails he doesn't feel. “Holy shit… it’s fucking huge,” I gasp, voice raw and breaking.

Tears flood my eyes, hot and unbidden. The pain is relentless, a sharp, intimate agony radiating through my core. Shame twists in my gut, mingling with the burn: I’m ruined. No one will want me now. But beneath the turmoil, a darker heat flickers: the filthy thrill of forbidden triumph, of finally feeling so full, so claimed, alive in a way my careful life never allowed.

I can't stop, I've come too far. My traitorous cunt flutters around him, gripping him like it wants to milk him dry, holding him deep and giving him intense pleasure even as I writhe in agony.

Matt rocks his massive body side to side with small micro-pulses in, ramming my cervix as if he’s **** to cram himself impossibly deeper, like he still can’t believe he’s already bottomed out in my untouched depths. The deep pressure makes my inner walls clench harder around his thickness holding him in. His bloated balls stay sealed to my upturned ass-cheeks while his pubic bone digs into my mound in a way that might feel good if I wasn't just ripped open.

He grins, oblivious to my tears, his eyes alight with triumph. “I’m not a virgin anymore.”

No shit. Me either.

"Come on, Matt, move," I beg. "Fuck me."

Finally the pressure in my core subsides as he pulls back. The drag is ****, inflamed tissues pulling in reverse as he tugs at my tightness, hot friction at my torn opening. He sinks in again, punching a guttural “Oof” from my chest. The third slams home with a wet slap that makes me arch in agony. He stills, buried deep, body trembling. “Hold on… trying not to come. God, you feel unreal.”

I can only whimper, face contorted, the hurt throbbing with every heartbeat, my ruined entrance raw and pulsing. I want to scream at him to stop, to get off, to let me curl into a ball and pretend this never happened. But my body betrays me, greedy despite the tears. This is what I was made for.

No more kisses after that. Matt buries his face in my neck, breathing hot and heavy in my ear, focused entirely on the tight, wet vise of my pussy. He starts gentle at least, bless him for that. He draws back with excruciating slowness, then glides in full and deep. I grunt low, whimper with each thrust, offering no resistance, just enduring, trying to find any spark of pleasure buried under the hurt. Each time the massive man drives into my tight pussy, the entire bed moves with him, squeaking and bowing.

Pump. Slow and steady. Pump. Pump. Pump.

The pain is constant, a throbbing fire from my popped cherry that barely subsides. But faint sparks flicker through it with friction lighting nerves I never knew existed, the insane fullness making my toes curl despite the tears. The room fills with my loud, broken moans and his labored gasps.

"Uh! Uh! Uh!" His moans, not mine. Matt is sweating profusely now, wheezing for breath, picking up the pace. The cardio workout seems to be helping him avoid coming too soon.

He’s uncircumcised, and I benefit from the velvety texture as he glides in and out partly under his own foreskin, enabling him to stroke my hole faster through the tight grip.

I feel his heart racing against mine as his chest bears down. With my pendulous breasts squished sideways, his sweat seals our chests, making lewd squishing and farting sounds as he slides front to back on me. He gets careless as he goes faster, slipping all the way out every few strokes. Air seeps into my expanded channel, forcing lewd queefs when he fills me. When he thrusts back in, the fat head rams against the sore edge of my freshly ripped opening, stinging sharply before finally sliding through. I groan and take it.

I spread wider, knees falling open, hands roaming his slick back. Pleasure teases at the edges, tantalizing and distant, but my climax stays miles away. The learning curve is too steep, the trauma too fresh.

Matt gets his second wind, comes up to his forearms to stroke me harder, and my breasts begin to sway. He's sweating so much from his head, his face is contorted with lust and exertion. The steady pumping has begun to break me in, opening me more as every minute passes. He fucks me harder, grins, then fully commits.

He’s power-fucking me now. I'm opening more, adapting, and he can go faster, but it still hurts like hell. My tits violently flop. They turn into shapeless gelatinous blobs on the upswing, sagging flesh turning in on itself. Then they swing down long, ligaments straining as flesh compresses in the tip, engorged nipples hard and pointing to our feet. All my bodily imperfections are on full display as the large man pounds me into a flabby, sweaty mess. Extra skin in my belly from weight loss jiggles. Flab under my arms I haven't noticed in ages wiggles as he fucks me into oblivion. Those queefs still happen, and I moan and babble incoherently.

He doesn't care. To him, I am a goddess, perfect in every way.

The bed shakes violently, the headboard slamming into the wall. All his neighbors know we're fucking.

“Yeah, take my cock slut!” he growls.

The words hit hard, demeaning, thrilling, unlocking something filthy inside me. Shame floods me, but I arch higher, scream louder.

“Give it to me, Matt. Fuck me. Fuck me!”

The end better come soon, or my lover will have a stroke. I'm bathed in sweat, the mattress around me is wet. He's fading.

Matt settles on my chest again. His arms slide under my shoulders, locking me in place. The thrusts slow, but they go in to the hilt, and he's adding a grind at the end. He's trying to come.

His cheek presses against mine, day-old coarse beard rubbing me raw. Pump. Pump. He's close.

I run my hands across his back affectionately. I can’t look back now. For whatever reason, I chose the imperfect Matt to be the one. Tonight, there is no other man in the world, only him. Two have become one. He's a part of me now. I feel his heart beat against me, faster than before.

"Come for me, Matt," I breathe in his ear. "Please. I can't take much more of this."

Three more hard pumps. The last one stays in, and just as one of the legs to his bed finally gives out, slamming the floor and tilting us to the side, Matt explodes in my virgin cunt.

His body convulses, and I realize with horror what is happening. His racing heart, the swell in his manhood, the twitching of his cock, a spreading warm wetness inside me as my cervix spasms from the contact.

Matt is breeding me.

There's no condom. He's pumping his potent seed straight to the back of my pussy, the ultimate act of depravity. Spurt after spurt paints my walls and pools up in me, staking his claim. My pussy flutters around him and milks him dry even as it burns in pain from being ripped open. Shame crashes, and I hate myself, but this is hot. When I get myself off later, this is what I will be thinking about.

Fresh tears well up. He stays locked inside, grinding, emptying every drop.

Then he finally collapses, dead weight crushing me and sweat and drool soaking my shoulder. I gasp for breath, and his softening cock plops out, sticky and wet. I feel air at the expanded opening and sense I am gaping, stretched wider than any Indian that would have me.

“Get off,” I say in a strained voice from his weight. “Now, please.”