It burned.
It stretched.
And it felt so f*****g good.
Jason’s c**k was buried deep in my ass, both of us slick with sweat and sin.
He f****d me slow at first, letting me feel every inch as he pushed in and pulled out. My moans were low and broken, face buried into the sheets, drool pooling at the corner of my lips.
“You’re taking it so well,” he panted. “f*****g greedy little slut.”
I whimpered, reaching down to rub my c**t. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
He didn’t.
He grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanked me up so my back arched, and f****d into me harder, deeper, filthier.
“You were mine the second I saw you bent over in your garden,” he growled in my ear. “t**s bouncing in that tiny tank top, p***y dripping through your shorts. You wanted me to see.”
I moaned like a w***e, ey
