The final denial was the last line I drew — and the one I could no longer cross.
I stayed straddling Justin’s lap, his throbbing c**k buried deep inside me, the neutral sensitizer turning every tiny shift into liquid fire and velvet. The afternoon sun had deepened to a bloody amber, casting long shadows across the treatment room like final judgment. His thighs shook violently with the effort of holding the kneeling position. Sweat rolled down the hard planes of his chest and abdomen in heavy rivulets. His c**k pulsed helplessly inside me, leaking steadily, denied release even as I took everything I wanted.
I rocked against him slowly, deliberately, grinding down in deep possessive circles while the sounds of war grew louder — explosions shaking the outer walls, gunfire cracking through t
