I lined up again—bloated head lodged firmly against her tiny, dripping entrance, stretching her outer lips wide just from the pressure. The contrast was pornographic: my massive, veined cock dwarfing her delicate, flushed, ruined pussy, cameras capturing every glistening detail.
Her chest heaved, tits bouncing with each frantic breath. Her eyes locked on mine—wide, wet, glassy with tears and feral need.
I leaned over her, one hand braced beside her head, the other guiding myself.
I entered her—slow, deliberate, inch by torturous inch.
The big crown of my cock first kissed her entrance—pressing against that still-twitching, hypersensitive rim that had just been tongue-fucked to ruin. Her outer lips, swollen and dark rose, peeled back like overripe petals the moment the crown nudged inside.
A soft, wet squelch filled the air as her cream-coated folds parted for me, clinging immediately to the flared ridge like they recognized their god and refused to let go.
