The sound that left her was not a moan.

It was the sound of something fundamental being revised.

He didn’t move.

He lay over her. His arms under her back, holding her. His cock buried to the base inside her, the balls pressing against the soft cleft of her ass, his pubic bone against her hair.

He sighed.

The long, slow, ’satisfied’ exhale of a man who has just arrived somewhere he wanted to be.

"Haah.... There..."

His voice.

Low. Warm. Right beside her ear.

She was making sounds she could not identify from the inside — the continuous, broken, streaming sounds of a woman whose body is doing something to her and is not asking permission.

Her pussy.

The walls of it, gripping his cock in the involuntary, comprehensive clench of a body that has been given something it didn’t know it was built to receive and is now receiving it at full capacity — every ridge of him felt, every inch of the stretch registered, the deepest point of her pressed against by something warm and thick and enormous that had never been there before and was simply, undeniably, completely ’there.’

She tried to speak.

"I— I can’t— it’s— you’re—"

"Still," he said.

And he began.

PAH!

"AAAANGHH~!!"

The first thrust drove the air from her entirely.

Not from impact — from the ’motion,’ the withdrawal and return of him through the tight, wet, stretched channel of her, the friction of it running from her entrance to the deep wall of her in a single, devastating stroke that her body had no calibration for.

Her head rolled.

Her hands pulled at the belt above her. Not trying to get free — just ’holding,’ the instinct of a body that needs something to hold while the rest of it is being comprehensively rearranged.

PAH! PAH!

"HNGH~!! AAAHH~!! TOO DEEP~!!"

He lay fully over her, his chest against her breasts — the weight of him pressing them flat, the jiggle of them with each thrust absorbed by his body, the compressed warmth of her beneath him.

His arms tightened.

Her body arched into his — the involuntary counter-thrust of hips that had learned in the last thirty seconds that this was what they were for.

"W-WAIT~!! AAANGHH~!! IT’S~!! TOO MUCH~!!"

PAH! PAH! PAH!

"HIIEEK~!! AAAAHH~!! MASTER~!!"

She felt every inch of him on every stroke.

The withdrawal — the slow drag of the ridge of his cock against the front wall of her, the specific, ’maddening’ friction of it — and the return, the full, deep, ’claiming’ drive back to the cervix that made her body respond with the specific, overwhelming, can’t-stop-it pulse of a woman being bred.

Her pussy was leaking.

Constantly. The wet running from her entrance down to the sheets below, the combined product of everything she’d been producing since before his fingers and everything she was producing now, the sound of it — the specific, wet, ’honest’ sound of a thoroughly soaked pussy being thoroughly used — filling the small room alongside the flesh-sound and her voice and his breathing.

"P-PLEASE~!! TOO FULL~!! AAANGHH~!!"

PAH! PAH!

"I CAN FEEL YOU~!! IN MY STOMACH~!! AAAHH~!! HIIEEK~!!"

PAAAH!

"AAAAAHHH~!!"

The deep thrust.

The one that found her cervix and ’pressed’ — his hips grinding forward at the end of the stroke, not pulling back, just ’grinding in,’ the full nine inches seated completely inside her and his pelvis against hers and his body weight pressing her into the mattress from above.

She couldn’t scream.

The sound that came out was small.

Involuntary.

The specific, airless, high sound of a woman who has gone past screaming into the register above it.

"Hn~— hn~— hn~—"

Her eyes.

Wide. Looking at the ceiling. The specific, fixed, somewhere-else stare of a woman whose body is currently in another country.

Her thighs — freed by the belt-slack as he’d shifted — came up on their own.

Both of them.

Wrapping around his waist.

Her body holding him in.

The involuntary, complete, entirely-without-her-permission embrace of hips that had decided this was exactly where he needed to stay.

PAH! PAH! PAH!

"AAANGHH~!! S-SON~!! OUTSIDE~!! AAAHH~!! PLEASE~!! QUIETER~!!"

PAH! PAH!

"HNGH~!! C-CAN’T~!! TOO GOOD~!! HIIEEK~!!"

She was crying.

The tears running from the corners of her eyes into her hair — not from pain, the pain had left somewhere around the third stroke and what had replaced it was something she didn’t have a word for, something that had no name in the vocabulary of a practical woman living a practical life in a struggling city.

The ’fullness.’

The complete, comprehensive, all-the-way-in fullness of a woman who has been empty without knowing it and is now the opposite of empty in every possible sense.

Her pussy gripping him.

With every stroke — the clench and release, the tight, wet, ’hungry’ grip of her around his cock, the walls of her adapting and holding and releasing in the rhythm he had set, her body learning the language of him and speaking it back.

She pressed her face to the side.

Found the pillow.

"Too good," she said, into the pillow. Barely audible. Mortified. True. "It’s too good. Why is it too good. Please—"

PAH! PAH! PAH!

"AAANGHH~!!"

He kept going.

PAH! PAH! PAH!

The rhythm was relentless now — deep, heavy strokes that drove the full length of him into her soaked, clenching heat with every thrust. Her thighs stayed locked around his waist, ankles crossed behind his back, pulling him in like her body refused to let him leave even an inch.

Her pussy fluttered wildly around his cock.

The walls squeezed suddenly, a powerful, rippling clamp that gripped him like a fist, milking every ridge and vein as her orgasm crashed through her without warning.

"AAAHHH—!!" she wailed, the sound breaking into a sob.

He groaned low and guttural, the sound vibrating against her neck. "Fuck— that’s it... clamp down on me just like that—"

Her pussy spasmed harder at his words, fluttering and squeezing in waves that made his balls draw up tight. He slammed forward with brutal force, the heavy smack of his balls against her ass echoing wetly in the room as he buried himself to the hilt.

PAH—!

"NNNGHHH—!!"

He came.

Thick, hot ropes of cum erupted straight against her cervix, painting the deepest part of her womb in heavy, white bursts. Again and again he pulsed inside her, flooding her overstuffed pussy with load after load. The sheer volume of it forced some of the creamy fluid to squeeze out around his thick shaft with every twitch of his cock, dripping messily down to her ass and the sheets below.

She cried out as he fucked her straight through her orgasm, his hips still snapping forward in short, powerful thrusts that pushed his cum even deeper.

"AAANGHH~!! HIIEEK—!!"

Her eyes rolled back, lashes fluttering, tears streaming freely down her temples and into her hair. Her whole body shook and convulsed beneath him, pussy clamping and fluttering uncontrollably around the massive cock still pumping her full.

He kept grinding into her, milking every last drop into her womb, his balls contracting as he emptied himself completely inside the woman who now belonged to him in every way.

Finally, with a heavy, shuddering gasp, he lifted his upper body just enough to look down at her flushed, tear-streaked face. His cock gave one final, lazy twitch inside her, releasing the last weak spurt of cum into her overflowing pussy.

He leaned down, pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to her wet cheek.

"From now on," he murmured, voice rough and possessive against her skin, "only I can creampie you... Lady."