a delicious strain

“Fuck, Osa,” he gritted out. “Look at you. Taking me so well.”

He pushed deeper. Osa could feel every millimeter. The stretch burned in the best way, a delicious strain. Her inner muscles fluttered, trying to accommodate. He was so thick. It wasn’t just length—it was the girth that stole her breath, that made her feel utterly conquered.

He leaned over her, bracing himself on his arms, and began to move. Slow, at first. Withdrawing almost completely, until just the head remained, stretching her open, then sinking back in with a smooth, relentless pressure. The friction was exquisite. Her sensitive, well-fucked walls clung to him, rippling with each pass.

Quivina’s hand slid between their bodies, her fingers finding Osa’s clit. She didn’t rub it hard; she just rested her fingertips against it, letting the motion of Adunbi’s thrusts provide the stimulation through her touch.

“That’s it,” Quivina whispered, her eyes on the junction of their bodies. “Watch him disappear inside you, Osa. He belongs there.”

Osa was watching. Her gaze was locked on the hypnotic sight of his cock, shiny with her wetness, pistoning in and out of her. Each inward stroke, her lips stretched wide, swallowing him. Each outward stroke, they clung to him, reluctant to let go. The wet, rhythmic sound of their joining filled the room, a obscene music.

Adunbi’s pace increased. His breaths came in hot bursts against her neck. He was losing his careful control. His thrusts became harder, deeper, more demanding. He was chasing his own end, and Osa was his willing vessel.